


the truth will set you free

by magicstrengthcourage, Renaetay, wjjmwmsn5



Series: Of spells and awkwardness [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Character Death, M/M, Minor Violence, Truth Spells, Vaguely Graphic Depiction of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 47,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6628984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicstrengthcourage/pseuds/magicstrengthcourage, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renaetay/pseuds/Renaetay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wjjmwmsn5/pseuds/wjjmwmsn5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana slips a truth potion into Arthur's wine in hopes of causing conflicts between him and his father, but when Merlin drinks it as well, all hell breaks loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lol plz kill me I need help follow us on tumblr for more merthur trash: @merlin-yeidiot and @magicstrengthcourage and @buckyystevee

Merlin watched from under the bed as Morgana poured a vial of dark liquid into the pitcher of wine. A dark smile crossed her face as she lifted it and her eyes glowed gold. The wine bubbled for a moment before returning to normal. She grabbed a goblet and filled it to the top before setting it and the pitcher carefully next to Arthur's dinner and turning to leave. Arthur entered the room just as Morgana was exiting. She nodded and smiled at him.

“Arthur.”

Arthur was surprised to see her in his chambers, but seeing as it was often best not to cross her, he simply gave her a weary smile in return. “Morgana,” he replied calmly, though he was obviously suspicious of what he might find in the room. It was the suspicion one gave a sibling, not that one gave a potential assassin. He came further into the room and shed his boots. 

Once Morgana was gone, Merlin slid out from under the bed. “Arthur!”

He would, of course, deny it to the end of the days, but he jumped when Merlin just slid out from under the bed like that. “Damn it, Merlin! You scared me,” he snapped at him. “What the hell were you doing under there?” 

Merlin stood up, brushing himself off. “Morgana came and I hid to see what she was doing. She put something in your wine, Arthur. Don't drink it.” Merlin picked the wine up from the table. “I'll get you a new goblet.” He started to head towards the door.

“Merlin, there’s nothing wrong with the wine,” he said, frowning and going to stop him. “You can’t just accuse the  _ king’s ward  _ like that, you know.” Really. It was a good thing for Merlin that Arthur was fond of him. Otherwise he would likely be dead already, with how stupid he could be. He stepped around Merlin and grabbed for the pitcher of wine. “I’ll show you. Give it to me.” 

Merlin lifted it out of Arthur's reach. There was no way he was going to allow Arthur to drink what Merlin knew was poison. In the past few weeks, Merlin had witnessed Morgana do many things. Compared to what Merlin had seen from her, accusing her of putting poison in Arthur's wine was very minor. “Don't argue with me on this, Arthur. Just get a different goblet,” he attempted to leave again.

“No, I’m going to put an end to this,” he told him, reaching out and grabbing for the wine again. “Whatever Morgana has…  _ done _ to you, you need to put it out of your head and stop accusing her.” He made a final swift attempt at getting the wine out of Merlin’s grasp. 

Merlin, once again, pulled the goblet out of Arthur's reach, drops of wine spilling over the edge as he moved. “I'm doing this for you,” he said, raising the goblet to his lips.

Arthur raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Merlin’s over dramatic tendencies to pass and for him to realize that the wine wasn’t actually poisoned. It was times like this that Arthur wondered why the hell he kept him around—but then, of course, his manservant would do or say something stupidly loyal or brave, or he would grin his wide, goofy grin at him, and Arthur would remember that this was his best friend. Even if he could be a paranoid, accusatory idiot sometimes. 

“Well?” he said, holding his hand out for the pitcher of wine. He figured Merlin was going to start spluttering about how,  _ Oh I was so sure, _ and all of his normal, weird excuses, so he thought he may as well pour his own goblet while he was doing that. 

After Merlin took a drink, he lowered the goblet, waiting. He frowned. Wasn't he supposed to be dying a slow, painful death right now? After a moment, he sighed and put the wine back down on the table. “I'm sorry, I just thought…” No, he was sure. He had seen Morgana do something to that wine. But if not poison it… then what?

Arthur took the wine and poured himself some, taking a drink of it. “We're both fine, see?” he said, sitting down at his table to eat his lunch. “Go polish my armor or something, Merlin, and stop being so damn paranoid about Morgana all the time.” 

His tone was dismissive, though he didn't necessarily want Merlin to actually leave. He just wanted him to stop before he got himself in trouble. Arthur could put him in the stocks without a second thought, but if he was required to do anything more… he couldn't. He couldn't even bear to think of flogging him, let alone imagine what it would be like to see Merlin’s head on the block. 

For all his flaws, he was nice to have around. Having a manservant that was fearful of him and terribly complacent got really dull really quickly. Even if he always admonished him for it, he didn’t usually mind at all the way Merlin spoke to him, all the spiteful “yes,  _ my lord _ ”s, unless he was being particularly ridiculous like this. 

Merlin sighed. Maybe Morgana really had changed. Maybe she was just being kind in bringing Arthur his wine, and Merlin had somehow imagined the rest. Morgana did some bad things, but would she really attempt to kill Arthur, who was so like a brother to her? Maybe Merlin had been wrong about her.

“You don't need to be such an ass, I was just trying to help.” Merlin mumbled, turning around. He hadn't really wanted to say that out loud, and he wasn't sure why he did, but he didn't really care because,  _ yes, Arthur was being an ass _ . Merlin supposed Arthur would just take it as his typical back-talking and shrug it off.

“Yes, and I appreciate that more than you know—” He stopped himself quickly. Where the hell did that come from? Normally he only ever let himself really compliment Merlin when they were in dangerous situations and their lives were threatened. He looked down at his food and was about to start eating when he blurted out, “And I really don’t think you know how much I appreciate you because I’m not very good at showing it, but I think of you as my best friend.” 

He felt his ears heating up. Okay, he needed to stop talking before he started acting like an idiot and saying how brave Merlin was, and how admittedly handsome… This needed to stop—quickly. He needed to sleep. Maybe he was deliriously tired and just didn’t notice. 

Merlin gave him a funny look. “You appreciate me? That's not like you.” Merlin joked, and he meant to stop there, he  _ really  _ did, but he couldn't stop himself from saying. “I appreciate you, too. You make my life a lot more interesting. Brighter.” Merlin’s eyes widened.  What the hell did he just say? Arthur's head was already big enough as it was, and Merlin didn't think he'd ever hear the end of this.

Arthur would have teased him for that to no end if he wasn’t so sure he was  _ this close _ to saying something stupid again himself. “Right. Thanks,” he said quietly, beginning to eat to ensure that nothing was going to fall from his mouth again. Maybe they both needed a nap. “Go and… do something,” he told him after a second. “Unless you don’t want to. Because I don’t actually want you to.”

Oh,  _ hell.  _ What was going on here? 

Merlin smiled, he intended to tease him, but instead said, “No, I don't want to. I want to stay here.” Merlin frowned, shutting his mouth. Maybe he should just stop talking. He knew that he and Arthur had both said things that they would have rather kept to themselves, and… oh no.

“Morgana,” he blurted out, unintentionally. “This is what she did, it must be.”

“ _ Merlin _ ,” Arthur said with an irritable frown. “She hasn’t done anything. Most likely. Maybe.” If he could tell himself to shut the hell up without looking like an idiot, he would. “Just  _ go,  _ okay? Go and… be Merlin.” 

“But Morgana is a sorceress, she has magic.” Merlin half-shouted. He clasped a hand over his mouth as soon as the words came out.  _ He really should not have said that.  _ He looked to Arthur, shaking his head. “She told me, and Gwen, but we promised to keep it a secret. But lately she has been using it for dark purposes.”  _ Oops. _ Merlin had meant to say ‘just kidding.’

That didn’t come out the right way.

“A  _ sorceress? _ ” Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows. “Look, I trust you and all, but I need proof of that—lots of proof.” He looked down at his food, trying to distract himself before doing anything stupid. “And you and I both know my father would rather kill me than believe his beloved Morgana is a sorceress.” That wasn’t exactly anything new for either of them, but he hadn’t meant to say it nonetheless. 

Merlin frowned. “Your father is a complete idiot and he is bad for this kingdom.” Merlin said. He tensed, expecting Arthur to start yelling at him for that bit, which of course, he hadn't meant to say. “And isn't this proof enough?”

Merlin felt like, suddenly, he couldn't keep anything to himself. If he thought something, he said it out loud.  _ This isn't good…  _ what if…  _ what if he told Arthur that…  _ No! He held a hand over his mouth. He wasn’t going to allow himself to talk, to tell Arthur that he was a sorcerer too.

“ _ Merlin! _ ” he snapped at him, feeling anger alight a fire inside of him. No matter how much he disagreed with his father, he would never think he was an idiot, nor would he ever think he was outright bad for the kingdom. Too heartless sometimes? Maybe. But not  _ bad.  _ “If I didn’t like you so much, I’d have you put in the stocks for all of this.” He felt his ears heat up and he desperately hoped that Merlin would take that in a friendship way. He took a bite of food before he could admit to anyone other than himself that it was not at all platonic. 

Merlin flushed red, he attempted to close his mouth and turn away, but instead blurted he out, “I like you a lot, too. Even if you give me a hard time.” Merlin wasn't completely sure how he meant it, but either way, he didn’t want Arthur to hear him admit that. He turned away. “I should leave,” he said, heading to the door as quickly as he could.

Arthur didn’t even look up at him. He just finished eating his lunch and then got up, going over to his bed and laying down for a nap. He needed a nap, desperately. Even if he didn’t need one before, he definitely did now, and he wanted to get Merlin out of his head, if that was possible at all. He shut his eyes tightly until he fell asleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that magicstrengthcourage was not actually a co-writer in this story, I just added them as a joke because @magicstrengthcourage is the tumblr URL of wjjmwmsn5, and now I can't figure out how to remove them. Lol.  
> Anyway, please enjoy this chapter.

Despite sleeping for a long time because of the events of the day before, Arthur wasn’t at all prepared to go through the tiring event that was  _ council.  _

_ At least,  _ he thought bitterly that morning after Merlin dressed him,  _ at least I’m rested enough to not spit out random stuff again.  _

Still, he pointedly avoided saying anything to Merlin, embarrassed about whatever happened between them yesterday. If they both just pretended like it didn’t happen, maybe Arthur could convince himself it was a dream and he would never have to think of it again. He could go back to living his normal life and  _ not _ thinking about Merlin’s hands against him as he tied the laces of his shirt. 

He left his room in a hurry after telling Merlin that it wasn’t necessary to attend council with him that day. He definitely wasn’t going to need any servants to fill his wine glass, because he didn’t think drinking wine in his current state would be a good idea. So instead of walking alongside his manservant and enjoying a few more moments of joking around with him before council like he normally did, he walked alone to the council chambers. He walked inside, not one of the first to arrive but not one of the last. He took his place at his father’s side as the rest of his advisers and other members of the court trickled in and took their places as well.

Arthur knew vaguely what the meeting was to be about that day. There were normal talks of bandits, increased or decreased patrols—he couldn’t remember which—and also talks about the state of their food, what with autumn coming in chilly and seeming to want to give way to an early winter. 

He mostly listened to his father describe what he wanted to do about the bandits— _ increased  _ patrols, that was what it was—but didn’t pitch in much. He agreed with everything that was being said, and so did everyone else, so the only thing that needed said was a few nods and murmurs of, “Yes, my lord,” and “Of course, sire,” from the other people of the court.

But then his father brought up rationing, and Arthur’s mind went on overdrive. 

“We’re going to actually ensure the people of the lower town don’t starve this winter, aren’t we?” he blurted out. “Because you don’t often make good decisions about rationing, Father.”

He felt his ears heat up. He had  _ not _ meant to say that. 

Uther looked to him, eyes wide in shock. “ _ Arthur,”  _ he said, authoritatively. “My orders are in the best interest of this kingdom. If people in the inner cities aren't receiving enough food, they will begin to riot,” he said, looking back to the knights. “The outer sectors are to receive only a third of their usual supply. I want you to store the rest for winter. My decision is final.” He set his jaw and gave Arthur a look that said  _ do not even try to challenge me in public again.  _ He swallowed, standing up. “The council is dismissed. Arthur, I need to talk to you, stay here,” he said, flicking his wrist dismissively at the knights.

Arthur nodded obediently, bowing his head even as he clenched his jaw in anger. He would see to the people of the lower town getting more than what Uther was willing to give them, even if he had to give it to them himself. If there was one thing above all the others that Arthur hated about the way his father ruled, it was how he dealt with rationing. Their subjects  _ deserved  _ better, but even if they didn’t, he and his father wouldn’t be prince and king if there were none of those subjects for them to protect and rule over. 

It took a moment for all the servants to leave as the couple that were in there gathered up the wine glasses and cleaned up a spill that Lord Ardeth had made toward the end of the meeting. Once they had left, Arthur felt dread fill him at the thought of this conversation. He knew he was going to be scolded, and some part of him knew that he was going to say more to make matters even worse. 

Still, he looked confidently up at his father, like nothing had happened and nothing would be happening. It wasn’t a challenge, by any means, just the arrogant way that he often held himself when he was afraid but didn’t want to appear to be. Of course, he would never admit that, normally not even to himself.  

Uther sighed, turning to him. “I've had enough of this, Arthur. You know that it doesn't look good for me when you challenge me like that in front of our knights.” Uther held onto the back of a chair, tapping his fingers against the wood. “I don't think I have a choice but to send you to the lower sectors to inform the people.”

“I won’t,” he said immediately, anger flaring up inside him, hot and unrelenting. “I won’t be the cause of their deaths, and if you do this, I’ll just give them food behind your back.” 

Oh,  _ piss.  _ Doing something behind someone’s back didn’t often work when you informed the person you were going to be sneaking around of your plans. 

“You'll  _ what _ ?” Uther asked, enraged. He pointed his finger strictly in Arthur's face. “You will do as I say or you'll face the consequences.” Uther's face was hard and unmoving as the tone in his voice. He would not hesitate to have Arthur put in the stocks. He had to be treated just like all the other knights.

“What consequences? What, will you have me flogged? Put in the stocks to waste more of the food you’re depriving the lower town of?” he snapped at him before he could stop himself. He knew that that technically made no sense seeing as they threw rotten food at people in the stocks, never fresh food, but still. He was sure someone who was starving because of Uther would be more than happy for one rotten tomato. “I’ll give them my extra food if you stop me.”

He knew that even if Uther did get angry enough to punish him, this was something he would do. If he couldn’t do it because Uther had him monitored, he would discreetly get Merlin to do it. It would be safer that way anyway, seeing as Merlin often went to the lower town to deliver things for Gaius, and anyway, it wasn’t like Uther paid any attention to the servants of his castle. 

Sometimes he just didn’t understand, though. How could his father care so little about his people? Arthur never wanted to see any of them suffering. If he had to eat as little as a peasant to ensure that everyone in his kingdom got to eat at least a little, he would. He would complain incessantly to Merlin, yes, but he would do it. 

“You’re being cruel and unjust,” he told him unabashedly, until he realized that whatever filter he usually had seemed to have flown out the window again. “I will not stand to see my people suffer like you do when I’m king.” 

Uther clenched his jaw, turning away from his son. “Perhaps spending the night in the cells will make you see reason,” he said, firmly. “Guards!” Uther called to the guards that were posted outside of the council chambers, pointing at Arthur when they came him. “Take him to the dungeon. Make sure he is watched all night.” Uther marched out of the large room as the two guards advanced towards Arthur, grabbing him by his arms and beginning to drag him away.

“I won’t stop feeling this way, no matter how long you lock me up for,” he said, struggling against the knights holding him. He jerked his arms out of their grasps and glared at them as he stomped out of the chambers just in front of them. “I’m still the prince, even if I am in trouble. You can’t  _ manhandle  _ me like that, even if you are into that kind of thing, Sir Ethan.” 

For what felt like the thousandth time that day already, his cheeks were tinged a bright red at the thought of what he just said.  _ What the hell?  _ he thought at himself.  _ Why can’t I shut the hell up?  _

The knights glared at him as he stormed away. What  _ the hell _ was wrong with Prince Arthur?

Arthur walked just ahead of them all the way down to the cells, and when the knights that were down there on duty looked at him oddly, he just snapped, “I’m to be put in the cells for the rest of the day.  _ King Uther’s  _ orders.” 

He walked toward the cell he was about to open up—with his own damn keys—and saw out of the corner of his eye a mop of dark hair atop a pale face. 

“ _ Merlin? _ ” he said, frowning as he changed his course and instead unlocked the cell that his servant was in. 

He knew he was expected to hand his key to the cells over, but really, how was he supposed to escape when he didn’t have his sword to fight with and there were always two knights there guarding? And what would be the point, anyway? It would only serve to anger his father further. So he kept his keys, putting them back on his belt as he was shut in the cell with Merlin. 

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked him, the frown still on his face. 

Merlin looked at him. “I don't even know…” he said, frowning. “What are  _ you  _ doing here?” he asked, just as surprised to see Arthur as Arthur was to see him, maybe even more. Merlin was a servant, and he was prone to causing problems and getting himself into trouble.

But Arthur was the prince, and he never ended up in the cells unless he did something  _ really  _ stupid, like… “Did you argue with your father in public again?”

“Yes, but I had a right to,” he muttered as he sat down and leaned against the wall of the cell. He crossed his arms and sighed. “He’s going to give the lower town only a third of what they normally get to eat this winter. And for whatever reason, I thought it was a good idea to tell him I’d go behind his back and feed them more food anyway. I was in the right, wasn’t I?” He looked up at Merlin. “I value your opinion, you know.”

At this point, there wasn’t even any use in getting embarrassed by his slips anymore. 

“You didn't do anything but speak your mind,” Merlin said, “but you didn't have a choice, you're still under Morgana’s spell.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes at him. “Shut up, Merlin,” he said, dismissing his accusation against Morgana as if it had never happened at all. “I was asking if I was right to go against my father about that. If I’m right about the food.” He knew that rationing was important, but it was something they all needed to do in his opinion, not just the people who needed the food the most so that royalty could still have ridiculous feasts. “I mean, I would complain if we couldn’t have feasts anymore because of them, but I’d be okay with it if it meant that the poor still had enough to eat.” 

Merlin smiled at that. “You're a good man, Arthur. I'm proud to call you my friend.” Merlin blushed, looking down. “I think I may just kill Morgana for this,” he joked.

Arthur blushed as well, very slightly, but pushed it away by focusing on the second half of what Merlin said. “You can’t kill Morgana if she did nothing wrong,” he told him. “And trust me, if she deserved to be killed, I would be the first to hop on and say I’d help.” Of course, that was meant with all the hatred a man could bear for his father’s-ward-who-may-as-well-have-been-his-sister, which is to say that it had a good deal of hidden affection and protectiveness lying just underneath. “If we were under a truth spell, I think  _ I  _ would know before you would.” 

“And why is that?” Merlin challenged him, raising an eyebrow. Merlin hoped that Arthur wouldn't lead him into revealing anything, but he could never stop himself from arguing with the prat.

“Because you’re an idiot,  _ Mer _ lin,” he said, leaning over to shove him slightly. “But I don’t actually think you’re an idiot. I actually think you’re rather wise sometimes.” 

Merlin gave him a funny look. “You think I'm wise?” he attempted to tease. 

He huffed slightly and leaned his head against the wall. “Actually, no. You’re never wise,” he said, but was compelled to add, “Except that you are a lot. Can we not talk,  _ Mer _ lin? If it’s alright with you, I would like to sit here quietly and reflect.” He paused. “Which means I would like to sulk.” 

Merlin chuckled. “Okay, Arthur.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the chapter follow us on tumblr @merlin-yeidiot and @buckyystevee and @magicstrengthcourage

Merlin had ended up in the cells for a very un-inspiring reason—it turns out that most knights didn’t appreciate being told that their wives were cheating on them. (Come on, Sir Ethan, everyone knows it and you're just in denial!) But Arthur had directly challenged the king. Of course, Arthur would be let out before Merlin anyway, as he was the crowned prince of Camelot. Merlin, unfortunately, did not have that privilege, and was forced to spend the next day in the stocks. 

He sighed as civilians gathered with baskets of rotten tomatoes to pelt him with. This was not his first time in the stocks, of course, but he still hated it. He closed his eyes  when they started to throw. It was a good thing that most of them didn't have great aim, but the tomatoes still managed to splatter onto his face, getting into his eyes and mouth. 

An eternity later, the sun went down and the people retreated to their homes as the guards came to let Merlin go. When they lifted the wooden board, he rubbed his neck and stretched. How often would he be having to do this now that he wasn't able to keep his mouth shut?

He had intended to go back to the physician's chambers and get some rest, but he somehow found himself outside of Arthur's door. He knocked before opening it. 

“Arthur?”

Arthur, who was reading some important documents at his desk, looked up as Merlin entered the room. He was tired from spending the night in the cells yesterday, and had felt bad all day for putting Merlin in the stocks over something stupid. It was true that Sir Ethan’s wife had been visiting the beds of many of the other knights, and Merlin shouldn’t really have said anything, but it was no reason to be thrown in the dungeon, especially when it wasn’t really his fault… 

Arthur hadn’t wanted to, and it had basically taken the entire day to come to terms with it, but he was starting to believe that maybe, just  _ maybe,  _ Morgana had had something to do with this whole thing, and that the reason they were both blurting things out was because of sorcery. Since that was the case, though, he didn’t know what to do. How were they going to get rid of the spell when they couldn’t tell his father? He knew his father wasn’t going to believe him, what with him worshiping the ground Morgana walked on.

So as it was, he was just miserably reading the documents, and he felt stupid when seeing Merlin lifted his spirits just a little bit. 

“Merlin,” he greeted as he pushed his documents aside. “You need a bath. And you should have brought my dinner up with you, I’m starving.” 

“What happened to wanting to save your food for the outer city?” Merlin joked, stepping into the room. “I brought you an apple.” He grabbed an apple from his pocket and tossed it to Arthur. Of course, Merlin didn't really intend to starve Arthur for the winter, he just wanted to mess with him for a while. “The kitchens prepared your dinner, a maid will bring it up in a few minutes.” _ Well, that ruined his fun. _

Merlin sat down at the end of the bed, folding his hands. “Are you going to do anything about Morgana?” 

Arthur rolled his eyes at Merlin’s failed  attempt at teasing him and took a bite of the apple as he leaned back in the chair at his desk. “There’s nothing to be done about her,” he said, stubbornly refusing to admit just yet that she was the one to do this to him. But of course, the spell wouldn’t let him do that any more than it would let Merlin lie, so he was forced to say, “I finally agree that she’s the one that did this to us.” He let out an irritated breath. “Shut  _ up _ , Merlin. I won’t hesitate to kiss- I mean flog you.” He looked away quickly. “I actually meant kiss, though.” 

He was going to stop Morgana himself. Damn the consequences. If his father wanted to let him rot in the cells for the rest of his life, so be it. At the very least, he was going to scream at her until he was blue in the face and she couldn’t help but be afraid. 

Merlin’s face flushed red. “I am going to act like I didn't actually hear that, even though I did,” Merlin stood up abruptly. Why had Arthur said that? Could he really…? Did Merlin feel that way about the prince in return? “Er… I'll go check on your food now.” Merlin rushed out of the room before Arthur had a chance to argue with him, leaving the door wide open behind him.

Arthur went to his bed, flopping down and burying his face in the pillow. What was the point of this spell, anyway? Just to embarrass him? Because that was all that it was doing.  _ Of course _ he had said that,  _ of course _ he had all but admitted to liking Merlin, something he hadn’t even really admitted to himself before this goddamn truth spell. He didn’t know what to do now. He didn’t want to ever look Merlin in the eyes again, except that he did. He definitely did. But not today, or anytime next week, or anytime in the near future where they would still remember him saying  _ that. _

…

Merlin held the tray of Arthur's dinner, running through the halls. He didn't actually want to go back and see Arthur, but he figured he could just drop it off and leave. He had a feeling that Arthur wasn’t necessarily in a hurry to talk to Merlin right now, either. 

He made his way up the stairs, trying not to drop anything. He rounded a corner and- oh no- a flash of red and silver and bright orange hair. Merlin ran right into Sir Leon before he had a chance to stop himself, sending them both to the ground and spilling Arthur's dinner all over the stone floor. Merlin cursed, rubbing his head. 

“Sorry, I was in a hurry so that I wouldn't have to spend much time with Arthur. He just admitted that he wanted to kiss me.” Merlin flushed red.  _ Oops. _

Leon felt a flare of irritation when he first went down—who liked to get knocked down and have food spilled all over them?—but being a knightly gentleman, it quickly dissipated as he sat up. It helped that it was Merlin, too, since Leon was fond of Merlin, likely due to how frequently Arthur brought him along on patrols. 

As soon as Merlin said that, though, Leon’s eyebrows raised and he looked up at the servant. “What?” he asked, thinking that this must have been some… thing. Some Merlin thing. He didn’t get Merlin’s sense of humor, sometimes, though Arthur always seemed to get it—they seemed to share a mutual agreement that it was okay to insult the hell out of each other and not get offended—and he thought maybe that this was one of those things. But how could that be interpreted in any other way? “What do you mean?” 

“I  _ mean  _ that I think Arthur likes me… in a romantic way,” he made an odd gesture in front of him. “And I think that I like him, too. And everything is confusing because Morgana did a thing and we can't lie, and I guess we are both just accustomed to lying!” Merlin went on a rant, unable to stop himself. He stood up, flustered. “Don't breathe a word of this to anyone,” he said, firmly.

Leon paused for a moment, just staring at Merlin in shock. “Merlin…” He wasn’t sure what the appropriate response to all of that even was. “Are you and Arthur trying to play a trick on me?” That was the only conclusion he could reasonably come to without believing himself that he and Merlin were both going crazy.  _ Arthur  _ romantically liking  _ Merlin?  _ And Merlin liking him back? That just didn’t make sense. That didn’t add up. It didn’t  _ happen.  _

Merlin looked at him for a moment. “No, why would we do that?” Merlin asked, looking down at all of the food on the floor. Arthur was never in a great mood if he didn’t have all three meals everyday, and Merlin hated to be the target of that anger. He sighed. “I need to go get another plate for Arthur’s dinner,” he said, before turning and leaving Leon confused in the middle of the hall.

Leon watched Merlin go, his brows furrowed. He shook his head as he stood up and began to make his way toward the armory. Honestly, he had heard stranger things from Merlin in the past.


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin had avoided Arthur for nearly three days, giving him plenty of time to think things over. He still wasn’t sure if he felt anything for Arthur—well, actually, he was pretty sure that he did. But what did that mean for him? Did he really want to have a relationship with Arthur in that way? Would that ruin what they already had? Of course, where would he get if he never took his chances?

He swallowed, standing up, he had to find Arthur. They needed to talk about things. He left Gaius's chambers and wandered through the halls until he found himself at Arthur's door. He knocked, pushing it open.

“Arthur?” Merlin called into the room. No answer. He pushed the door open further, stepping in. His eyes searched for Arthur, but it was empty. He sighed, leaving the room. Where else could Arthur be at this time? He had no knights to train for the day, and there were no council meetings, at least not that Merlin had heard about. He started heading in a random direction. Maybe he would find Arthur simply wandering in the halls.

After a while, he saw Gwen, walking with a basket of sheets towards Morgana’s chambers. 

“Gwen! Have you seen Arthur?” he called.

Gwen looked over at him when she heard him call over. She walked over to him and smiled slightly. It was always nice to see Merlin, and lately with how much work Morgana and Arthur had been giving them, she felt like she hadn’t really gotten to see them. 

“Merlin,” she greeted pleasantly. “I think I saw him walking around outside earlier. Why are you looking for him?” 

She thought since Arthur had been alone and didn’t really have much to do today—as far as she knew—that Merlin might have had part of the day off until he needed him for his dinner and to get dressed for bed. She usually took full advantage of her days off, even though she was close to Morgana and usually enjoyed her presence, except for of late she had been acting very strangely and had taken to being constantly snappy. But anyway, she would have thought that Merlin would take full advantage of his day off, too. 

Merlin frowned when he was compelled to answer, “Because I think that I'm in love with him and I need to tell him immediately so he doesn't think I'm rejecting him. A few days ago he said that he wanted to kiss me, and I just kind of ran out. ” Merlin let out a short noise of annoyance. He hadn't meant to say that. 

Sure, he cared for and trusted Gwen, but he had already told Leon on accident and it wasn't exactly something that he wanted to scream to the world at the moment. He sighed. “Just…  _ where  _ outside did you see him?” 

Gwen raised her eyebrows at this, completely confused and surprised. “Merlin,” she said, because that was all she could think to say. What was one supposed to say in a situation like that? “Why didn’t you tell me before? You could have told me, you know.” 

Merlin’s breaths were becoming shaky. “I- I just… I don't know, Gwen. I was confused, and I still am. I don't understand anything right now! I just  _ really _ need to talk to Arthur. Please tell me where to find him,” he stammered. He wasn’t sure why he was growing so anxious so fast, but he could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. Did it have to do with the thought of telling Arthur how he was feeling? Arthur responding to him… tangling his fingers into his hair and kissing down his neck. Merlin shuddered.  _ No.  _

Gwen bit her lip, not wanting to see him get so upset. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “He was just leaving the courtyard when I last saw him. He’s probably walking around the inner city now.” She paused for a moment and then said, “You and Arthur would be good together, Merlin.” 

She, of course, had thought that there was something between her and Arthur, but she would put Merlin over herself any day. He and Arthur were so obviously perfect for each other. So she put a smile on her face for Merlin’s sake and patted his shoulder lightly before going off to deliver Morgana’s basket.

Merlin got outside and scanned the area for Arthur. When he saw nothing, he sighed, sitting down on the palace steps. What was he doing? Was this really even a smart idea? He was hunting down Arthur to… what?  _ Confess his undying love for him?  _ This was so stupid of him… it was  _ Arthur  _ that he was thinking about.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. He whipped his head around to look over his shoulder, seeing Arthur standing behind him.

“Oh,” Merlin said. “You're here… I, um- I haven't heard from you in a few days.” Of course, Merlin was just as guilty of avoiding Arthur as Arthur was of avoiding him, but he didn't really feel like admitting to that. “Actually, I was avoiding you.”  _ Right. _ He looked away, gesturing for Arthur to take a seat next to him on the steps.

“Me too,” he admitted, though the truth spell didn’t have to will him to. At this point, he felt it was somewhat useless to lie to Merlin. 

He came over and sat next to him, sighing. His walk around the city had been good. He needed the time to think. But now he was just here next to Merlin, feeling like he was as confused about everything as he was before, that it was all just useless. 

He sighed and looked down at his lap, where he was twisting his mother’s ring around his finger as he often did when he wanted to think. He didn’t want to mess up his friendship with Merlin. He didn’t want to admit to himself or anyone else that he liked Merlin, when that was so unconventional. He had been taught since he was young that it was  _ wrong.  _ That liking servants, and especially  _ boys, _ was bad. That he needed to put it out of his mind and focus on girls—on princesses whose marriage with him would have some sort of political gain. That was fine and all, until  _ Merlin  _ came along. He had to turn his entire world upside down in every way he possibly could. 

“Can we just pretend like it didn’t happen?” Arthur asked after a moment, looking over at him. He was sure that Merlin didn’t feel the same way about him, and if he didn’t, Arthur didn’t want to think about it anymore. 

“Alright…” Merlin said, twiddling his thumbs. “But I feel the same…” he began to say before biting his tongue.  _ No. Arthur didn’t want to talk about it, and Merlin wasn't going to let a stupid truth spell ruin their friendship. _ He swallowed after he was sure that he wasn't going to say anything. “You're such a prat,” he finished, not looking at Arthur.

Arthur looked over at him for a moment, wanting to comment on the fact that Merlin had said  _ I feel the same,  _ but maybe he was misinterpreting something. So instead he just leaned over and bumped his shoulder into Merlin’s. “Clumsy ass,” he said, hoping some form of normalcy would help the awkwardness. “You're not actually an ass, but you are clumsy as hell.” He let out a breath. The truth spell wouldn't even let him have that. 

Merlin gave a short chuckle, wrapping his arms around himself…  _ why the hell were they just sitting out here in the late fall? _ He cleared his throat. “Do you want to go back inside? It's really cold out here…”

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed, standing up and waiting for Merlin. “My room’s a mess without you, by the way. You'll have a lot to clean.” He smiled slightly and nudged him as he turned and headed back in the direction of his chambers, his mind stuck on the thought of Merlin’s bright blue eyes, his messy dark hair, his full lips… 

_ God.  _ He needed to not. 

Merlin raised his eyebrow at Arthur when they got back to his chambers. It looked like… _ everything _ was on the floor. “Are you really this helpless without me?” Merlin asked jokingly. He started straightening random things around the room.

“I'm not  _ helpless, _ ” he said, rolling his eyes as he went to sit on his unmade bed. “I have a lot of laundry, too.” 

He watched him as he picked things up, pulling his boots off so he could get under his blankets a little bit. It was starting to get rather cold. Before they knew it, it would be the middle of winter and it would be impossible to leave the castle without getting soaked in snow. He hated the winter, being unable to go out on patrols. Being stuck in the castle for months was his least favorite thing. 

Merlin grabbed Arthur's dirty clothes, wadding them up to later be handed to the laundry maids. “So… what happened in the past three days?” Merlin asked, awkwardly.

Arthur looked up at him again and he sighed. Admittedly his time without Merlin had been incredibly boring. He missed their banter, even if he was extremely embarrassed about the entire situation. He had just missed Merlin, honestly. 

“Nothing really,” he said. “I've been avoiding my father and admitting to myself that you’re probably right about the Morgana thing. What are we going to do about the truth spell, anyway? How do we get rid of it?”

Merlin chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought. “I don't know.” Merlin sighed. “But we will figure it out. What do you plan on doing with Morgana after everything is sorted out?” he asked. “This must be hard for you....”

He shrugged. He hadn't thought about it too much yet, but now that he was, there wasn't any other conclusion he could come to. “She has to be punished for her magic somehow,” he said, “though I don't think she deserves death or even banishment by any means.” 

Merlin swallowed. It was the use of magic that Arthur felt the need to punish Morgana for… not the evil that she had done with it. “Maybe we should send her to the Druids… they can help her with her magic, teach her to use it for good?” Merlin attempted to convince Arthur. “I don't think it would be wise to punish her for for simply using magic, and we don't want to turn her even more against us… but if we try to help her…” he paused, looking at Arthur. “What do you think?”

“No one uses magic for good,” Arthur replied automatically, his default response that he hardly had to even think about. He thought for a moment about the idea of sending Morgana to the Druids. “Well, I guess that's not true,” he said, his mind acting on impulse because of the spell. “I don't think the Druids would want to take in anyone tied to me, though.” 

Merlin shook his head. “I have no doubt that they would be willing to take in Morgana. They are peaceful people… and they trust Morgana. The druid boy that we helped all that time ago has a strong bond with her,” he said, hoping that Arthur would just  _ not ask  _ how he knew so much about this. “Though they know that she is destined for evil. It’s been foretold.”  _ Oops. _

“Who told you about that?” Arthur asked, thinking it was maybe just Gaius’s usual nonsensical paranoia about the future. 

He wanted to put off the conversation about the Druids for any amount of time that he could, knowing he would be forced to tell the truth about it, which would upset him undoubtedly, as it always did when he thought about it. It was inevitable, he knew, because that was the best choice for Morgana, but he had to try. 

_ Oh hell, Arthur. Why did you have to do this? _

“There’s a dragon underneath the castle. His name is Kilgharrah. I visit him frequently and he tells me things about destiny and the future…” Merlin started. “A long time ago, he told me that I should let Morgana die because of who she was to become, but I refused to.” Merlin cringed.  _ Why. _

If they weren’t both under a truth spell, Arthur would definitely call Merlin an idiot and shove him until he gave him an actual answer. As it was, he just stared at Merlin with slightly wide eyes. “A  _ dragon? _ ” he asked, too shocked by this to think of anything more intelligent to ask. “You talk to a  _ dragon?  _ Do you have  _ any  _ self-preservation, Merlin?”

Merlin sighed, irritated with himself and this annoying spell. He nodded. “Yes, I do. He's kind of a friend of mine, though he is confusing as hell and only seems to care about himself.” It was true, Kilgharrah was a pain in the ass, but Merlin wasn't quite ready to tell Arthur that. “Let's talk about something else,” Merlin said quickly, changing the subject before he was forced to tell Arthur anything else.

“Like the fact that this dragon you probably illegally go down to see told you to kill Morgana?” Arthur said as he finally picked up on the part of that that wasn’t  _ dragon under the city.  _

Honestly, though, he didn’t know what to expect from Merlin at this point. He was constantly doing stupid stuff like that, but Arthur just didn’t want to get back on the subject of the Druids. The old image was stuck in his head now, but he didn’t want to relive it with Merlin. He didn’t want him to know about the things Arthur had done. 

“Please can we just go back to discussing what to do with Morgana? We could be able to save her. To keep her on our side. Don't you want that?” Merlin could feel his heart beating quickly. Fear that Arthur wouldn't  _ just stop asking questions already  _ was taking him over. 

Merlin believed that there was still some good in Morgana, there always had been. She had one of the brightest smiles in the kingdom, and she knew how to touch people's hearts… he didn’t want to let that beauty about her turn to darkness, even if the prophets said that there is no other way.  _ Morgana could be salvaged. _ The Morgana that they knew and loved.

“We can save her,” Merlin repeated, quieter.

“We’ll have to think of something other than the Druids,” Arthur said dismissively, drawing the blankets around himself and leaning back against his headboard. “I would understand completely if they didn’t want to ever associate with me again.” He turned away from Merlin, hoping he wouldn’t ask about it since he knew Arthur would have to answer honestly and likely fully, considering how the spell liked to take shitty situations and twist them into even shittier ones. 

“What happened?” Merlin asked, oblivious. He suddenly felt guilty. Arthur obviously didn't want to tell him anything, but now he wouldn't have a choice. He sat down at the foot of Arthur's bed.

Arthur threw a glare at him. He knew that Merlin probably asked it without thinking, but it annoyed him now that he had no choice. “When I was fifteen, my father found where some Druids were camping,” he began quietly. “It was one of the first important missions I led. I brought my men out to the camp and ordered them not to kill the women and children, but they didn’t listen. I was too young and afraid to tell them to stop.” He was looking anywhere but Merlin by now, feeling sick to his stomach at the memory. “They were slaughtered. All of them.” 

Merlin put his hand on Arthur's leg, attempting to comfort him. “You were young and inexperienced. They understand that,” he said. “And what you did for Mordred showed them they can trust you.” Merlin looked at Arthur, trying to get him to meet his eyes again. “Send Morgana to the druids. It's the best thing for her.”

Arthur let his eyes slide shut and he just shrugged a little bit. Merlin was probably right, but he just wanted to not think anymore. He wanted to sleep away all of their issues, the stupid confession and the truth spell and the memory of the Druids. Maybe he was getting sick since it was getting so cold, but his stomach really did hurt. He just wanted, for a small instant, to not be the prince, to not be the target of truth spells and to not have to make difficult decisions about his sister or like the ones he made on that day. He was too young to be doing that at the time, too young to decide for himself whether or not he truly hated the Druids or not. 

“Do whatever you think is right,” he told Merlin quietly. “I trust your judgment. Can I just go to sleep now?"

Merlin watched him as he rolled over in bed, not saying anything.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tbh the only chapter anyone really wants to read

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *awkwardly clears throat*  
> So um... *cough* if you happened to see that we momentarily uploaded a short chapter last night right after chapter four, that was.. obviously... *cough* meant as a joke. It's been taken down now... *runs away*

Arthur felt better than he had since the whole damn truth spell had been put on him, and maybe before that. Out in the woods on a hunt with no one but Merlin, he didn’t have to say anything except to order his servant to be quieter, and he felt at ease with his sword at his hip and a crossbow in his hands.

They had been out there all day and Arthur knew that it was time to get home—if not because it was getting dark then because it was obvious that Merlin was quickly becoming exhausted and his usual whiny self. 

Merlin had always hated hunting. Arthur always managed to make it last practically all day, and he would lead them so far out into the woods that it would take hours to get home. He didn’t like killing defenseless animals for sport, nor did he like spending the entire day outside on a horse when it was extremely important. All he was able to do was complain, hoping that the prince would just give in.

Arthur looked over at Merlin finally when he was ready to head home. “Let’s go,” he said, starting to walk in the direction of their horses. He held his hand up to stop Merlin when he heard a sound coming from behind them though. His fingers brushed the pommel of his sword, ready to draw it from his scabbard at a moment’s notice. 

Bandits ran into the clearing that they were in, and Arthur drew his sword quickly, immediately throwing himself into the fray in front of Merlin. The odds were extremely against them, five bandits against one swordsman protecting his servant. They couldn’t run, though, he knew that much, so he fought anyway, his mind on overdrive. He wasn’t thinking about death in that instant; his mind was in the fight. 

Merlin watched in horror as Arthur engaged in combat with the bandits. Jumping from his horse, he focused his eyes on Arthur and stepped out of the way.  _ He was not going to let any harm come to the prince. _

He noticed as two more bandits tried to sneak in from behind Arthur, attempting to take him by surprise. His eyes quickly glowed gold, sending a large tree branch onto both of their heads and knocking them out. 

He was breathing heavy as he looked up, noticing another bandit hidden in the tree, about to jump down onto Arthur. 

“Arthur!” Merlin shouted. “Above you!”

Arthur turned and looked up at the bandit, jumping out of the way just in time. He began to fight that one so his focus was torn away from the others behind him. He shouted as he felt a sword nick his back and spun around to try to keep himself from getting stabbed. Now his mind was on death. There was no way out of this situation. He could fight two people at once,  _ maybe  _ three, but not this many. There was no way. 

He would fight until his dying breath, though, so he kept swinging at all of the bandits even as he felt ready to collapse, wanting to say something to Merlin, but there was nothing adequate for the moment. He just steeled himself for a fatal blow. 

Merlin swallowed, not sure what to do… he wasn't hidden, magic would be too obvious! He let out a scream when one of the bandits almost struck Arthur in the chest. The prince was a good warrior, but not even he could handle  _ six bandits at once! _

Merlin stepped forward, making a split-second decision to use his magic now. What choice did he have? 

He raised his hand as fast as he could, eyes glowing gold. Magic pulsed through his veins, sending it rushing through his fingertips, and all six of the bandits fell back at once, hitting their heads against the ground. They went limp instantly, likely not dead, though definitely not conscious. His eyes faded back to blue, slowly, and he lowered his arm. His gaze slowly drifted to a horrified Arthur, staring at him, with his jaw practically on the ground.

Arthur’s mind stopped working as soon as he turned back at the sound of Merlin’s scream to see his hand raised and his eyes glowing gold. He couldn’t think as the bodies were strewn about on the ground around him. He couldn’t think as he dropped his sword and stepped away from the circle of bandits. He couldn’t think as he looked up at Merlin again.

_ No, _ he thought when his brain finally started working again.  _ No, not Merlin. Not my Merlin.  _

“That- that wasn't me!” he stammered, trying to think of  _ any _ excuse. “Well… yeah, it actually was.”  _ Damn truth spell!  _ He stepped towards Arthur, reaching out to him. “Arthur,  _ please… _ ”

“You’re a sorcerer,” he whispered, backing away from him like he was one of the bandits that he just fought against, like Arthur couldn't trust him a bit even though just minutes ago he would have trusted him with his life. He didn't want Merlin to touch him. He didn't want him anywhere near him. “You've been  _ lying  _ to me. Merlin… I trusted you.” 

Had anyone else betrayed him like this, Arthur was sure it would not have hurt this badly. Not even Morgana sparked such an intense anger, an intense sadness, and she was like a sister to him. Merlin had become his closest friend, his confidant in many ways, and the person who could lift his spirits after the worst of days. And he had lied to him, was practicing  _ magic.  _ He didn't know what to do, so he didn't. He just stared at Merlin like he was waiting for an explanation.  

Merlin swallowed. “Arthur, please, you have to understand, I would never hurt you.” It was true, and he didn't even need a truth spell to say it. “ _ Everything  _ I've done since I arrived in Camelot has been for you.” Merlin had to blink back the tears that were pushing at the back of his eyes. He knew that it wasn't so much the magic that Arthur was upset about, but the lying. But Arthur had to understand…. “Please, Arthur…”

He shook his head and picked up his sword, putting it back in his scabbard. He glanced at Merlin, unsure what to do with him. He couldn't even think of punishing him, let alone killing or banishing, but he didn't want to see him. He didn't want to see the blue eyes that had glowed a shimmering gold, not now, and not when they were so obviously holding back tears. 

“We're going back to Camelot, and when we get there, you're going to stay the hell away from me, do you understand?” he snapped coolly. Of course the ride to Camelot was so far away. Why did they have to stay out there most of the day? It was going to take until dark to ride back, with Merlin behind him and his back stinging horribly where he was cut.

Merlin nodded. “Alright,” he said, still on the verge of tears. His stomach was twisting into a knot-  he never wanted Arthur to have to find out this way. 

He followed behind the prince, keeping a good ten feet between the two of them, keeping his head down.

Eventually Arthur heard another noise and held his hand up to get Merlin to pause behind him, looking around curiously. It was only another animal, so he let out a breath and glanced back at Merlin. 

“Come up here,” he said, just loudly for Merlin to hear. 

They needed to talk about this. Arthur needed to understand why before he pushed Merlin away, even though he felt angry enough to scream at him. He had thought that he knew Merlin better than anyone else; it hurt to know that that was wrong. 

Merlin hesitantly sped up to ride by Arthur's side, but he didn't say anything. What was Arthur going to do with him when they returned to Camelot? Execute him? No… not Arthur. Banish him?  _ Maybe. _ Merlin didn't want to leave Camelot. Gaius was there. Gwen, Leon and the other knights, and of course, Arthur. He sighed, looking over to the prince. 

“Why do you practice magic in a kingdom against magic?” Arthur asked him when he was next to him, staring straight ahead as they rode. He didn't know if he was ready to look Merlin in the eye and talk to him about magic yet. All of this was so new, and associating the words  _ Merlin  _ and  _ sorcerer  _ together still made something deep inside him ache. 

He liked Merlin. He had admitted to it, basically, had admitted to wanting to kiss him. He hated this whole damn situation. It wasn't like he hated magic nearly as much as his father, but he had been taught for so long that it was bad… He couldn't do away with a lifetime of thinking like this because of Merlin—or not this quickly, at least. 

He changed his question, because the first one wasn't what he really wanted to ask. “Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you…” He trailed off for a moment before shaking his head. “Why did you do this to me? You are—you were my best friend.”

Merlin really wanted to give Arthur an answer that he would understand, or that he would want to hear, but he had no choice to answer with the exact truth. “I was sent to Camelot by my mother—I was born with magic but I wasn't responsible with it or good at it. She thought that Gaius would be able to help me with it.” Merlin paused for a moment, swallowing. “Before I knew it, everyone was telling me that it was my job to protect you. It was my  _ destiny. _ At first, it felt like I didn't have choice. I was being forced into being the secret sidekick of an annoying, arrogant ass. But then you grew on me, and looking back, I wouldn't have it any other way.” He took a deep breath. “I'm sorry,” he added quickly.

Merlin hoped that this long explanation wouldn't be too much for Arthur. He wouldn't be surprised if Arthur didn’t even know people  _ could _ be born with magic… and to tell him that at first, he was being pressured into this, could only hurt Arthur. He hoped that the prince would just understand, Merlin really was his servant. Not just in the literal job that the king had given him, but he was tied to Arthur. He was destined to serve him.

Arthur frowned. He hadn't known you could be born with magic. He hadn't really realized that some people literally couldn't help it, that not all people intentionally learned and practiced magic. But he knew it had to be the truth. “Why would you help me?” he asked him quietly. “Why would you help the son of a king who persecuted sorcerers?” He paused for a moment. He had so many questions. It was overwhelming. “How many times did you give me the credit for something you did? How many of my achievements were actually mine?” 

Why did Merlin have to be so Merlin? Why did he have to always turn his world upside down? He both loved and hated it, but right then he was just— _ so goddamn confused.  _

Merlin was so relieved when Arthur asked the second question before he had time to answer the first-  _ because I love you. _

“Too many to count,” he answered honestly, a tinge of guilt in his voice. Arthur was always so worried about proving himself, he needed to do everything right so that he could show the people that he was worthy of  being king, though Merlin knew that he had always doubted himself. Those small victories that Merlin let him think he had, had built him up, gave him more confidence. Arthur needed to know that  _ he could be a leader. He would be a worthy king _ .

Arthur always forced himself to be so brave, to put himself behind everyone else. That was what Merlin loved about him so much. Even if Arthur doubted himself, Merlin never would. He was courageous, independent, entertaining, and he had those bright blue eyes that had always dared Merlin to fall in love with him, and then one day, he just did.

“But that doesn't make you any less of a warrior,” Merlin said after a moment. “I still believe that you will one day be the greatest king this land has ever seen—that, Arthur, is why I serve you.” 

He went quiet, letting the words hang in the air between them.  _ Yes. _ Arthur would be an amazing king, and Merlin wanted to help him to become one. That was why he was here, and he was never going to leave. Even if Arthur banished him, Merlin vowed to always find his way home. To always find his way back to Arthur's side, where he knew that he belonged.

Arthur was silent as he thought about that. He didn't feel like the greatest king the land would ever see, but then again, it wasn't his time yet. Maybe when it was his time, he would at least feel like a decent man to fill his father’s crown. He would have to be, if he wanted to make him proud and keep his people safe. 

Here was Merlin, though, who had so much confidence in him that he couldn't help but feel like shit for ever doubting him. How could he not wholly believe in Merlin’s undying loyalty? He was everything Arthur wanted in a friend, but he had magic. That was the only thing Arthur couldn't see past. And he was going to let it destroy them, was going to let one thing ruin everything they had together. 

“I can't just stop being angry about this immediately,” he told him quietly. “But I think I can maybe forgive you, if you give me some time.” 

Merlin gave him a small smile.  _ Hope. _ “Then that's what I'll give you,” he said before slowing down, allowing Arthur to ride in front of him. 

He couldn’t help but feel weight fly off of his shoulders. Arthur knew his secret, and he was going to forgive him in time. Maybe,  _ just maybe, _ everything would be okay. This was supposed to happen. 

… 

After many hours of silence, they found themselves looking down on Camelot from the top of a hill. Merlin used his hand to cover his eyes from the sun. “We may have just another hour?” he said. “Or a half?”

Arthur nodded curtly. “The sun should be gone by then,” he said. 

He had resolved to try not to get any angrier at Merlin than he already had, and after hours of nothing but thinking, he had gone through many different emotions. At first he was mostly confused, and then he was angry again, and now he was trying to be open. It was just hard because he still didn't care for magic. He had never seen it used for good. He knew that the Druids were peaceful and good, but he had never seen it before. 

“I think it would be best if you took tomorrow off so I can think, Merlin,” he told him after a little bit more riding. “But stay away from my father, okay? I don't know why he would ask you about magic, but… you're my responsibility and I won't have him arresting you.” 

That was about as close as he was coming to  _ I care about you and I want you safe  _ as he was going to get at this point. 

“I don't really want to be around him, anyway,” Merlin said, influenced by Morgana’s spell. He closed his eyes. What was going to become of him? Everything was happening so suddenly… he was almost certain he would eventually say something to get himself killed.  

He couldn't help but let his thoughts linger on what Arthur had just said…  _ you're my responsibility. _

What did he mean by that? Was it meant to sound friendly, or like Merlin was just extra weight for Arthur? He sighed. “So… do I get tomorrow off? So you can  _ think _ , and all?” Merlin joked, but there was a hint of seriousness in his voice. He wasn’t sure if Arthur would still want him around while he was thinking things over.

“Yeah, take tomorrow off,” he told him, looking over at Merlin. “I honestly need to think. I’m not going to… I’m not going to punish you, but…” He looked away from him, back at the path in front of them. “I need time to process this.” 

There were so many things this explained, so many things before that he had just put in the back of his mind and decided not to question after a certain point. 

Merlin nodded and kept riding. He didn’t like that Arthur was upset, of course, but he had to keep reminding himself that it was his fault. If he hadn't lied to Arthur the past couple of years, he wouldn't have broken his trust… _ but his head would have been on the chopping block. _

Merlin remembered the first day he met Arthur. He had been such an idiot back then, Merlin would have never thought they could be friends. Arthur was too consumed in seeming strong and powerful, in impressing his friends, that he didn't give people like Merlin a second glance unless he was kicking their ass to show off. He chuckled a bit.  _ Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees? _

Arthur remembered so many times when chances seemed impossibly slim, but suddenly he seemed to break through at the right moment, with Merlin hiding in the background. Now he realized that that wasn’t Merlin cowering. It was him performing magic. It had never made sense to Arthur before, anyway, that his manservant would seem so afraid when at other times he was so brave. 

Valiant, the Sophia woman he had “fallen in love with,” that magical windstorm back in Ealdor, a strange light in the cave when he was trying to save Merlin from the poisoned chalice… They all made sense now. Merlin had saved him over and over again without even asking for any sort of reward, without even asking to be recognized in the slightest, and Arthur was getting angry at him for that. 

He sighed heavily. “But only one day off,” he told him, looking at him again. “My chambers are a mess.” 

And that was Arthur’s way of saying,  _ But I’ve already forgiven you so I don’t want you away for long.  _

But instead of just being able to leave that unsaid, in between the lines, the goddamn spell had to make him blurt out, “I really just don’t want you to be gone for long.” 

Merlin smiled, looking at him. “I know, Arthur.”


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as they got home the night after the hunt, Arthur fell asleep. He woke up late the next morning, having forgotten to ask a servant to wake him up at a decent time like Merlin usually did. And then he had to track down a servant to ask them to bring up his breakfast, and worst of all, he had to get dressed on  his own. 

It was a stressful morning, leaving him little time to do the one thing he had given Merlin the day off for: think. 

Luckily, he didn’t have council, nor had his father asked him to talk yet, so he was basically free until afternoon training, which would give him a lot of time to do nothing but think. He decided that after breakfast he would go out and train on his own, because when he didn’t have a bunch of other knights to watch, he could usually clear his mind while he was out on the training grounds. 

As he sat at his table, tiredly waiting for the servant to arrive with his tray of food, Arthur thought about everything that had happened the day before. It was obvious that Merlin was a powerful sorcerer. It was obvious that he used that powerful sorcery in order to keep Arthur and his people safe. It was obvious that he was  _ good,  _ so what was it that was still bothering him? 

It was the lying, maybe. He understood  _ why  _ Merlin had felt the need to keep this from Arthur, but it still ached to think that he wasn’t Merlin’s confidant as much as Merlin was his. If there was something he couldn’t tell him, it was likely a secret Arthur would guard with his life. It wasn’t always directly that Arthur confessed things to his manservant, but he felt like Merlin picked up on it anyway, seeing as he always made an effort to cheer him up. If Arthur complained about long councils—which meant the councilors were frustrating him—Merlin would always ramble on extra, with entertaining stories that Arthur smiled at, though he hid it. If Arthur talked about how little he wanted to go see his father—which meant his father had upset him—Merlin would tell him stupid stories from Ealdor that would make him forget about his father’s words or disappointment. 

He just wanted to know  _ Merlin.  _ He wanted to understand him, wanted to know the whys and hows, wanted to know how to make him smile or how to detect when he was upset—which was hard, since Merlin seemed to selflessly hide it. He had thought he was beginning to really understand and learn about him, but he realized now that he was wrong, that he maybe didn’t know the man that he liked so much as well as he thought he did. 

There was a short knock oon the door and Gwen entered, holding a tray of Arthur's food. 

“Sire,” she said, putting it in front of him. She didn't meet his eyes—how could she? Though she hid it, she was heartbroken. She swallowed, looking at the ground. “Will there be anything else?” she asked, oddly.

“Oh, Guinevere,” he said, looking up at her in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to be the one to bring his food. Now that she was here, though, there was an entire new, complicated set of things to think about. 

He hadn’t really thought of Gwen and their almost-relationship in awhile, not since it had begun to fade away again, and especially not since the truth spell was given to him. Now she was here, though, and there were too many different ways to turn. There was Merlin and Gwen and Morgana and he didn’t want to think about it all, honestly. He wanted everything to be infinitely simpler than it had suddenly become of late. 

He needed to talk, he realized. Not to think. 

“Do you have much to do this morning?” he asked her. “I would love to talk over breakfast.” 

Gwen shook her head. “I suppose I have nothing to do,” she said, folding her hands. She needed to behave like a serving girl, because that's what she was. She wasn't Arthur's almost-partner like she had thought. A friend, maybe, but he was still the prince. She gestured to the chair across from Arthur. “Shall I sit down, then?”

Arthur nodded, giving her a  _ go ahead  _ motion with his head. “Yes,” he said, sitting up straighter and leaning into the table slightly. “I’ve been… thinking about something. I don’t know if it’s appropriate to talk about with you, but I would really like to talk to someone, and I consider you a friend.” He let out a breath, unsure how  _ not  _ to make this awkward. Maybe she had moved on from him… He hoped she had. “I hope you could consider me a friend as well, and I know that you and Merlin are friends…” 

“Merlin told me,” she said simply. There was no need to over complicate anything. Like Arthur said, she considered him a friend, and that's just how she was to her friends. “About you and him… and I understand. You two would be great together.” She let out a breath.  _ Don't let him see that you're hurting. _

Arthur saw right through her. He felt like he was decent at reading people that he knew well enough, except when it came to Merlin of course, who was far more mysterious than he had any right to be. “Gwen, if you don’t want to talk about this with me, we don’t have to,” he said gently, not wanting to put his own confusion over her feelings. “I realize that it’s not entirely fair to you.” He looked down and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I’m sorry.” 

Gwen shook her head. “I don't know what you mean. I don't see how this has anything to do with me,” she lied, denying her feelings as she typically did. “But I suppose you're right… I'd rather not talk about it.” She looked down. She was not going to tear up in front of Arthur, not now. She wouldn’t let herself.

Taking a breath, she stood. “I should go.”

He looked up at her as she went. He wanted to ask her not to go, but he knew that that would be too much. He was already obviously hurting her, which upset him as well. He hadn’t meant to do that… He wasn’t thinking. He was being an idiot, was what he was doing. 

“All right,” he said, nodding and looking down at his table again. “I’m sorry, Guinevere. I… I’m sorry.” 

There was nothing more to say other than he was sorry, nothing that wouldn’t cause him to start blurting out truths. So instead of even trying, he just continued to stare at the wood and wait for Gwen to leave. 

 

….

 

Merlin hadn't been able to sleep that night. He stared at the ceiling, thinking. He was thinking about Arthur and the day before. He knew that Arthur wouldn't to do anything to punish him, but he worried that he would not be able to repair his trust… or their friendship.

He had both anticipated and dreaded this day since the moment he arrived in Camelot. It had been a secret he had been guarding for his entire life- he hadn't even revealed it to Arthur when Will died back at the Ealdor. He just let him take the blame. 

He remembered the night that he learned of Morgana’s magic. He could have at least told  _ her _ then. Maybe then things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand. He could have trained her, taught her to use her magic for good. Only the druids could save her now — Merlin had lied for far too long.

There was a knock on his bedroom door and Merlin sighed, sitting up. Gaius peaked his head into the room.

“Are you hungry?” he asked him. “You haven't come out for breakfast. You'll be late to wake Arthur up if you don't hurry.” 

He had an idea of what was going on, though he hadn't actually heard anything out of Merlin. The boy could do some pretty stupid things sometimes, but he wasn't actually stupid. Gaius knew that Merlin was aware that he shouldn't go around telling knights of their unfaithful wives. He just didn't know exactly what was causing all of it. 

Despite the fact that he had an inkling about the spell, though, he was oblivious to the drama between Arthur and Merlin, and the fact that he had revealed his magic the day before, or he might have been a bit more comforting. 

Merlin stood up. “Can we talk, Gaius?” Merlin usually told Gaius almost everything, unless it was something that would put him or someone else in danger. 

“Of course, my boy,” he said, walking back out into the main area of his chambers. He sat down at the table they always ate at, expecting Merlin to follow after him. “What is it that you want to talk about?”

Merlin followed him to the table, sitting down. “It's Morgana… and Arthur. And everything,” he sighed. “Morgana put a truth potion in Arthur's wine and we both drank it. Arthur knows it was Morgana, and that she's a sorceress… and he also knows about me. He's kind of upset right now.” Merlin looked up at Gaius, waiting for a reaction, for him to start yelling about how  _ he needs to be more careful! _

Gaius raised an eyebrow. Based on the fact that Merlin was still alive and didn't seem to be fearing for his life, he suspected that Arthur wasn't outright angry. “That seems like quite the situation you got yourselves in,” he said. “Have you been looking for a way to end the truth spell so you don't accidentally tell Uther too?” 

“We haven't quite found the time to work out a solution,” Merlin said, “but Arthur told me just to avoid Uther as much as I can.” He sighed, looking up at Gaius. “Do you know of anything that could work? I just don't want anything else to harm my relationship with Arthur.” 

“I can search, but it depends on what kind of truth spell it was,” he said. “You might have to ask Morgana what the cure is.” He let out a sigh, annoyed at Merlin’s lack of ability to keep himself safe, but he knew that this would be hard on him so he wouldn't lecture him. “How did Arthur react?” 

Merlin thought for a moment. Arthur had seemingly gone through many emotions, but never hate, or not even really anger. “He was… confused. Wanted answers. He's still trying to get them, I guess,” he said, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “And I doubt that Morgana would ever tell us the cure.”

“Unless you forced her to somehow,” he suggested. “I'm glad that Arthur reacted well. This puts the two of you this much closer to fulfilling your destiny, if you can convince him that magic isn't evil. As long as you don't get yourself killed for it.” 

Merlin swallowed, standing back up. “Thank you, Gaius,” he said. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do now. Wait for Arthur, that was obvious. But what about Morgana? Merlin just didn’t have a plan.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just fan service tbh. Enjoy.

The next morning, Merlin threw open the drapes in Arthur's chambers, allowing light to flood into the room, covering Arthur in his sleep. “Rise and shine!” Merlin called as he usually did, walking over to the prince’s bedside to rouse him. He had set Arthur's food at the table for him to sit to whenever he was ready. He put a hand on Arthur's shoulder and gave him a light shake.

Arthur groaned and turned to bury his face in his pillow. He didn’t feel like getting up and dealing with the day yet. He didn’t want to talk to Merlin and have it be completely awkward, as it was going to undoubtedly be. “Merlin, go away,” he whined. “I want to sleep more.” 

Merlin smirked, crawling on the bed and leaning over Arthur. “Come on, get up,” he joked, “or I'll push you onto the floor.”

Arthur let out a  _ hmph  _ noise when Merlin leaned over on top of him and twisted slightly so he could look at his face and glare, though there was no actual anger there. “Merlin, why,” he deadpanned, trying to push him off. He buried his face in the pillow again to hide a little smile at how stupid Merlin was. “Let me sleep for another five minutes. Or another five hours.” 

Merlin chuckled, fighting back by pinning Arthur down and climbing completely on top of him. He shook him. “Waaaaakkeeee uppppp!” he said, playfully. All he really wanted was to get rid of the tension that had been between him and Arthur. He just wanted to be like this every morning, just playing around with his best friend.

“Stop. You’re being adorable,” Arthur said, and suddenly his face was becoming a bright, embarrassed red. “Damn spell.” He turned his face away, wanting to hide it from Merlin. It was now extremely awkward to have Merlin on top of him, pinning him down, and Arthur was very aware of a certain body part that was particularly active in the mornings. He quickly pushed Merlin off of him, glad for his superior strength, and stood up, going over to his table and trying to focus on  _ anything else _ .

Merlin landed on the floor when Arthur pushed him away. He frowned,  rubbing pain from his head. Had he done something wrong? He stood up, swallowing. Arthur suddenly seemed so tense, and it made Merlin feel sick to his stomach. “I'm sorry,” he murmured, realizing how inappropriate his actions had been, even for him. 

He walked over to Arthur's closet, selecting a random outfit that fit the cold weather, and setting it over the back of one of the chairs. “Is there anything you need to do today?” Merlin asked, awkwardly.

Arthur felt really bad, not having meant to push Merlin that hard and not having meant to upset him. “I don’t remember,” he said. “So probably not, other than training.” He stared down at his table and after a moment he sat down. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Sorry.” 

This was all so ridiculous. Why couldn’t they just talk? Why did everything have to be so uncomfortable? Before all of this, it was easy to talk to Merlin, but now he felt odd at the thought of even teasing him. He worried at his lip, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“Can we just talk? I don’t want things to be like this between us anymore,” he said quietly. “With  _ us _ , and your magic, and the spell…” 

Merlin sighed. He knew this was coming. They could never just  _ have fun _ .  After a moment, he nodded, sitting across from Arthur. “What about ‘us’?” he asked, unenthusiastically.

Arthur sighed and looked away from him. “I like you,” he blurted out. He was upset and frustrated and he wanted all of this to just end. He wanted the spell to be over with so they could finally go back to being Merlin and Arthur, so they could laugh and have fun again. So they could be best friends again. “Just—I’m angry about all of this. I don’t  _ want  _ to like you, and I don’t want to have you be a sorcerer. I don’t  _ want  _ to be your friend right now.” 

He tried to hold back from blurting out the truth for as long as he could, staring intensely at his table. He felt bad automatically, yes, but he couldn’t—he  _ wouldn’t  _ allow himself to get this close to Merlin. It was completely untraditional and it couldn’t happen. 

“That’s a lie, okay?” he finally said quietly, because he couldn’t stop himself. He stood up and walked away from the table, going over to his window and leaning against it, staring down at the courtyard. In that moment, he honestly hated Morgana for putting them through all of this. 

Merlin’s stomach dropped. Was Arthur really this upset? This angry? Even if it wasn't directed at him, it still hurt Merlin. He turned his focus to the first thing that Arthur  had said. “You like me,” he whispered, testing the words in his mouth. He looked up at Arthur. His brave, strong, oh-so complicated Arthur. He stood up, walking over to stand behind him. “I will always be here,” he whispered. “Only for you. No matter what.”

Arthur looked back at him for a moment and then out at the courtyard again. “I can’t think these things about you,” he said quietly. There was no point in hiding it anymore. Merlin  _ knew _ because he had been forced to tell him. “I’m not supposed to. They’re—they’re  _ wrong _ , or so my father thinks. We can’t produce an heir. You can’t be a king. And you don’t… you don’t even like  _ me _ , so what’s the point?” 

“The  _ point _ is  _ I love you! _ ” Merlin blurted out. “I'm not asking to be your king, I'm just asking for things to go back to normal, to—dammit, Arthur, why are you so oblivious?” 

“You…” Arthur trailed off, unsure what to do now.

He had been  _ so sure  _ that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. That he was just an idiot for falling for Merlin, and that nothing could possibly come of any of it. But Merlin…  _ loved him?  _ It was like that didn’t want to process in his brain. How could Merlin ever…? 

He turned completely toward Merlin and steeled himself for what he was about to do. He had been in bloodier battles than he could have ever imagined, had been so close to death he had come to peace with it, had faced magical beasts more terrifying than anything else, but nothing was as scary as this. 

Arthur closed the distance between the two of them, pulling Merlin close to him. He wrapped his arms around him to keep him close and kissed him deeply, trying to think of nothing else but Merlin up against him, Merlin’s lips against his. 

Arthur had actually embarrassingly little experience in this department, having never been allowed close enough to any willing visiting princesses to explore kissing. And he would never dishonor himself or any of the servants by asking them to do this. He was afraid they would let him do as he wished even if they didn’t want to, just because he was the prince. So he wasn’t sure exactly what to do with his arms, except that he wanted them around Merlin, nor with his lips, except that he wanted them on Merlin’s. And what was he supposed to do about  _ that _ particular body part when Merlin was right up against him? 

Merlin froze when Arthur kissed him suddenly, but he almost instantly felt himself melt into Arthur's touch. His arms felt strong around his waist, and his lips felt warm and chapped against his own. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, never wanting to let go. He could feel Arthur, pressed warm and hard against his thigh through his trousers. A broken moan escaped his lips through the kiss, and Merlin just held on tighter.

Arthur deepened their kiss for a moment, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in it, to lose himself with Merlin. But after a moment more of kissing, he pulled away and cleared his throat a little bit. He kept him close, trying to think of what to say, but all that came out was, “Merlin.” He leaned his head forward and rested his forehead on Merlin’s shoulder. “I’m going to protect you from my father, you know. Since you seem to have no sense of self-preservation when it comes to your magic.” 

Merlin chuckled into Arthur's messy blond hair. “You would think so, wouldn't you?”

“I will,” he promised him, feeling very protective of him. “And if he finds out somehow, I won’t let him hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Nor I you,” Merlin whispered back, running his fingers into Arthur's hair. He kissed him again before breaking away, smiling. “You're helpless without me,” he joked. “Admit it.”

“I am not,” he said, smiling back at him, and he was more relieved than he could explain that they were finally able to smile at each other again. That they were finally able to be just  _ Merlin and Arthur.  _ “Okay, maybe I kind of am a little. Or more than a little. Shut up.” He kissed him again briefly and then looked into Merlin’s eyes. “And honestly, I’m not okay with magic just yet, but I’ll try. For you.” 

Merlin nodded, looking back into his eyes. “I understand. Thank you, Arthur. For not— burning me,” he joked. Honestly, Merlin  _ was _ grateful for Arthur not hurting him, but Merlin also knew that he never would anyway. After a while, Merlin finally pulled away from Arthur, sighing. “What are we doing? You said it yourself… this can't happen.”

“Don't thank me yet,” he teased, smiling at him. “I may change my mind if you're annoying.” He pulled away from their embrace and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him back over to the table and sitting down to eat. “No, I won't. I could never. But you already know that.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha so yeah I bet you were expecting some Merlin/Arthur this chapter

Uther sat at the dining table, twirling a fork in his fingers. Morgana had requested to dine with him, and though he was a busy man, he had no problem clearing his schedule for her. Morgana was precious to him, he valued her opinion over almost everyone else's. He could never pass up an opportunity to spend time with her.

The two giant doors were opened by guards, and Morgana strode in. He looked up, smiling. “Morgana, nice of you to finally join me.” Uther gestured to the empty chair near him.

Morgana sat down next to him, smiling sweetly. She had long since perfected her kind smile in the face of someone she hated. Even long before she had distanced herself from Uther’s love, she still forced herself to smile at feasts honoring the deaths of her kind. She had learned how to smile in the face of men wishing to be suitors who wanted nothing more than her body. She had understood the necessity of a fake smile at a way too young age, considering how many times she had to use it even when she was still angry and sad about her father’s death. 

“Sorry I'm late,” she said as she got comfortable in her seat and began to fill her plate with dinner. “How have you been? I feel like we haven't spent enough time together.” 

Uther looked at her, fondly. “Arthur was acting out recently, but I believe he's come to his senses,” he said. “Have you been well?”

Uther hadn't actually heard much from Arthur as of late, but at least that meant he wasn’t challenging him in front of the council.

Morgana nodded. “I'm well,” she told him. She saw this opportunity and took it—she wanted to eat dinner with Uther for the purpose of making him suspicious of Arthur, after all. There hadn’t been as much confrontation between them as she would have liked. “But I have noticed Arthur’s strange behavior as well. He's been acting so rude lately, hasn't he?” 

“Rude?” Uther asked. He took a sip of his wine before looking back up at Morgana. Again, he had not seen much of Arthur recently, but he didn't think he could really be the ‘rude’ type, unless, of course, he was talking to that odd little servant of his… “What do you mean?”

“I mean… more distant. Haven't you noticed?” she asked innocently. She went about eating her dinner as though this was  a completely normal conversation, as though she didn't know far more than she should have. “Like he has something else on his mind. Like he wants to be anywhere else.” She took a bite of cheese and then she added, “I don't know what it could be, though.” 

“That doesn't sound like Arthur…” he said, setting down his silverware. “Is there something you aren't telling me? You can speak your mind, Morgana.” Uther wasn’t sure what could possibly be wrong with Arthur, but he couldn't remember the last time Morgana was wrong about something—like she somehow just  _ knew _ when something was happening or would happen soon. He trusted her.

She let out a small sigh, setting her silverware down as well and folding her hands in her lap. “I don't think I should be the one to tell you,” she said, hoping that Uther would ask Arthur something like,  _ What’s wrong?  _ and Arthur would say something completely inappropriate. “Perhaps you should go talk to him at some point.” 

Uther glared at her for a moment, trying to read her, before leaning back in his chair. “Perhaps you're right. I will speak with him tonight.” He was tempted to push Morgana to tell him more, but decided that it was obvious she wasn't willing to. He chewed on the skin of his bottom lip. “Do you know if he has any plans for the evening? He probably talks to you more than he does to me.”

“None that I'm aware of, my lord,” she said as she picked her silverware back up again. “I'm glad that you're going tonight. Arthur worries me so much sometimes, with how little he tells you. I fear he may hold far more secrets from you than a son ever should from his father, or a prince from his king.”

She began to eat again, glad to have been able to sow the seeds of suspicion in Uther. Her spell wasn't going according to plan of late; Arthur may have caught on and was avoiding Uther. If he found the cure before she could get them to really argue… It was a good thing she used a somewhat obscure spell, seeing as there were many more common, less desirable truth spells for the victim that she would have rather used. But she wanted one that Gaius couldn't help Arthur out of if he happened to share his condition with him, that few people could aside from the spellcaster herself. 

Uther shook his head. “Have I done something wrong? Am I not a good father?” Uther asked her. “Is there anything I could do differently?” Uther had raised Arthur the best he could ever since he was born. He taught him strength and dignity, the importance of the laws of the land, and he taught him to respect him and any other kings or nobles, even if he was of a higher rank. 

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong,” she assured him quickly with a frown. “You are an amazing father, I think. You’ve raised me all of these years and I couldn’t ask for anyone better. Arthur…” She shrugged a little bit. “I fear that Arthur is just… rebellious, maybe a little selfish. He has no regard for anything but his own agenda.”

If Morgana was honest, she didn’t think any of this about Arthur. He was about as far from rebellious as one could get. He knew fully well what Uther would do if he showed any real signs of “rebellion,” and he put many things before himself. He was rather selfless at times. But Uther would listen to her more than he would listen to Arthur, she knew this, and if she said that Arthur was being selfish and rebellious, Uther would likely believe her. 

Uther frowned. “Rebellious?” he repeated. The words sounded nasty. It wasn't like Arthur to be rebellious, Uther knew this. But if Morgana thought so… did everyone else, as well? Was there something that he was just missing?

She paused for a moment, like she was considering whether or not it was a good idea for her to tell Uther this. “He thinks ill of many of the good things you do for the kingdom,” she told him quietly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say anything else. It will be good for you to talk to him.” 

Uther looked at her. “No, it's alright,” he said. “Please go on.” 

Morgana shook her head, unsure what else she would tell Uther. If she told him too much, she could somehow be caught in her lie, and it would be difficult to talk her way out of it. But if she didn’t, Uther might think she was just being paranoid. She knew that her lies always went right over Uther’s head; he was extremely oblivious to her true intentions, or maybe she was just a really good actress. She thought it was potentially a combination of both, as she prided herself for her acting skills. They were well-practiced. 

“This is a conversation that needs to happen between you and Arthur,” she told him. “I don’t think you should overwhelm him, or he might not say anything, but I think you should be firm. He needs to be reminded that you’re our king. Perhaps you should ask him what he thinks of your relationship and go from there. Maybe he feels… neglected, lately, for lack of a better word.” She met his eyes for a moment. “Trust me, I have both of your best interests in mind when I suggest these things.” 

“You're right, of course,” he responded. “Perhaps I should go see him now?” Uther stood up from the table, pushing his untouched plate forward.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said, smiling up at him. “It would be best not to delay. Perhaps tomorrow you can tell me how your conversation goes.”  

Uther gently took Morgana’s hand and placed a kiss on it before crossing the room to the large doors. He didn’t acknowledge the guards at their posts as he made his way to Arthur's chambers.

Morgana smiled until he left and then she let the smile fade as she continued eating. Everything was now falling into place. She needed for the tension between the two men to appear until it broke them apart. She needed Uther to feel as though Arthur was inadequate for the throne. If Arthur was out of the picture, at least temporarily, then all that would stand between her and the crown was Uther. And he trusted her so intimately, all she would have to do was be careful about how she went about it. She could kill him and no one would ever know. 

And then she would be queen. She would be the queen that Camelot needed. Arthur wouldn’t be a bad king if he managed to weasel his way onto the throne before she could take it for herself, but he would let his prejudices reign just like Uther did. He was more mindful of people in the lower town, yes, but he followed his father’s word to a point. He would not lift the ban on magic. He would continue to kill them just as ruthlessly as Uther did. 

Her ascension to the role of queen was the only way to bring about any real peace to the land. With her care toward the kingdom’s people and her mindfulness of their differences, she would be able to first make Camelot a better place, and then work to ally with the Five Kingdoms around them. Uther had been working on this alliance for a while, but he had only a mind for himself. He couldn’t see what was best for the rest of the kingdoms. 

What was best for them was magic, and no Pendragon would ever allow magic back into the kingdom. 

Once she was finished eating, she stood and began to walk back to her room, nodding to the guards as she passed through the big doors. She clasped her hands together and walked quietly through the hallways that she knew like the back of her hand. In a way, these hallways were hers, but not completely. Not yet. They would be one day, and the big, luxurious bedroom that Uther stayed in would be changed to her liking and made her own. The throne would be hers, and she would have a crown made for her head. The beginning of a new era, a new line of royals—the Le Fays—should be shown with a new crown. 

Morgana could see it before her eyes like it was one of her visions. She knew it wasn’t. She could feel no magic coursing through her as she thought of this future, just hope for a better age for the land. When Camelot was hers, when  _ Albion  _ was hers, then things would be all right with the world. Then things would finally be perfect. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha BOOM MOFO

Merlin wasn't sure what to do—or what exactly it was he was doing in that moment, but he was in no position to question himself as he felt Arthur's mouth leaving a wet trail down his neck. He leaned his head into the crook of Arthur's neck, clinging onto the fabric of the prince’s shirt. Who was he to say this was wrong? It was Arthur….  _ Prince _ Arthur who was leading  _ him  _ to the wall. He gasped when his back hit the stone, feeling Arthur's hot breath against his shoulder. He held Arthur closer to him.

Arthur, in that moment, could not care less how much he  _ shouldn't  _ be kissing along his manservant’s neck, one hand trailing down his side and the other against the wall next to his head. He pulled away from Merlin’s neck to fumble with the laces of his shirt until he got them undone. “Take your jacket off,” he told him quietly. He added quickly, paranoid about Merlin’s willingness even though it was obvious he was as into this as Arthur was, “If you want to.” 

He untied the laces of his own shirt. He should have been thinking about how wrong this was, but instead he was stuck in the moment. All he wanted to do was hold Merlin tightly and kiss his lips red and leave marks down his neck. 

Merlin pushed Arthur off of him just enough to do as he was told, sliding his jacket from his arms to the floor. He pulled him back against him, threading his fingers into Arthur's hair. Merlin tilted his head, leaving more room for Arthur to suck marks into his skin. The only thing he was able to think about was Arthur’s broad chest pinning him to the wall, his strong hands sliding down his hips, and the hard bulge pressed against his thigh.

Arthur tugged his shirt over his head and began to pull Merlin’s shirt up. Once it was off, he resumed his kissing, his lips trailing down to his collarbone where his shirt would cover up any marks he left whether he was wearing his neckerchief or not. He kept one hand down on Merlin’s hip. 

He wasn't sure exactly what to do now any more than he was when they first kissed that morning, but now his mind was being driven by  _ not-his-brain.  _ All that was important was Merlin against him, reciprocating his feelings. All that mattered was this moment, his lips exploring Merlin’s body, his hands keeping him close. 

Merlin slid his hand to the nape of Arthur's neck before stepping forward, pushing Arthur towards the bed. He turned his head to meet Arthur's lips with his own, taking in Arthur's tongue. Merlin could feel Arthur's heart beating quickly against his chest, and he heard a short moan, not sure which of them it came from. 

Both of Merlin’s hands slid down Arthur's arms as he fell backwards onto the mattress. He looked up at the prince through thick eyelashes as he sat up on the bed. Any small desire to stop, to say this was  _ wrong _ had vanished. All he wanted now was more of Arthur, to feel him over his entire body. He no longer cared about anything else.

Arthur leaned over the top of Merlin and kissed him deeply for a moment. When he pulled away, he kissed his neck again, getting rougher with the kisses when he got further down. “Why haven't we done this before?” he said softly against his skin, letting breath tickle Merlin’s neck. 

Merlin arched his back when he felt Arthur's lips against his neck again. “Because you’re a prat,” he whispered back. He grabbed Arthur's wrist and slowly guided his hand to the base of his stomach. “Actually, I think we were just scared.” Oddly, the truth spell interrupting him at this point did not feel as awkward as it should have. “Still am.” 

“Me too,” he said quietly. He was glad to be kissing Merlin’s neck, because he hadn't wanted to admit that. “I don't know what exactly to do.” He pulled away from his neck slightly to look into Merlin’s eyes and smiled, feeling like an idiot for how sweet and soppy that look must have been, but he cared for Merlin so much, he couldn't help but look at him like he rose the sun every morning. 

Merlin smiled up at him, sighing. “I love you, Arthur,” he whispered. He lifted his head up for another kiss, but stopped when he heard the door open without a knock. His eyes widened in horror and he gasped, afraid to look over to see who had entered.

Arthur’s smile was impossibly wide until the door opened— _ Merlin loved him _ —but then it dropped immediately as he moved off of him. He was about to scream at whoever it was that had entered without a knock when he saw his father standing before him. He felt his face heat up. 

“Father,” he said, scrambling to grab his shirt from the floor and put it on, tossing Merlin’s at him too. “This isn't what it looks like. We're— We were about to have sex.” 

Damn  _ everything  _ to hell. He was going to  _ strangle  _ Morgana for this. 

Uther looked, horrified, from Arthur to Merlin, both of their shirts in their hands, and the obvious marks that had been left down the servant's neck. It was no mistake what had been going on, but the fact that Arthur had so willingly just admitted to it- it felt like a challenge. His son truly was rebelling against him. Uther clenched his fists, about to start yelling, but instead he bit back his tongue. When had shouting ever really worked when it came to Arthur? Uther sighed. “Arthur, I need to speak to you,” his eyes went back to Merlin, flustered on Arthur's bed. “Alone.”

Arthur nodded and looked down at Merlin again, nodding toward the door. “Merlin, get out,” he muttered to him. He was absolutely mortified at this whole situation. He put his shirt on quickly and looked anywhere but his father, feeling like an idiot. His face was still red as he ran a hand over it and through his already messed-up hair. “Father, I… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry you… saw us like that. But actually I’m not sorry.”  _ Shit.  _

Uther frowned. “Have I done something to offend you, Arthur?” he asked, coldly. “Have I not been a good enough father?” 

Uther ignored Merlin as he ran past him and out the door, keeping his head down in shame. Uther wasn’t upset particularly with Arthur engaging in such…  _ activities.  _ It was just that Merlin was not only a boy, but a servant. If word had somehow got out about about this… though he supposed that was what Arthur had intended. He wanted to shame Uther and the Pendragon name. Morgana was right, Arthur was rebelling against him. He looked darkly at his son, waiting for an answer.

Arthur watched Merlin out of the corner of his eye and when he saw that he was safely out of the room, he focused his attention on his father again. As soon as he saw who entered the room, he was irrationally afraid of Uther asking Merlin about his magic. 

“You haven’t done anything,” Arthur assured him, but he knew that that wasn’t true. He steeled himself for what would happen after he blurted out the truth. “Actually, I don’t think you’ve been a very good father or king lately, and that you’ve been making very bad decisions lately for the kingdom, but I was too afraid to tell you. But that’s not why I was going to have sex with Merlin.” 

Uther fixed his jaw. “Then why exactly  _ were _ you about to bed that serving boy? If it wasn't just to spite me when you so obviously think so poorly of me?” Uther had to restrain himself from hitting his son in that moment. What was the point of lying? Just to upset him further? When did Arthur get so damn rebellious?

“Because I love him,” he said, feeling his face heat up again. “Father, please, I don’t think ill of you. Most of the time, although lately it’s been questionable.” He huffed in irritation and turned away from him, running an anxious hand through his hair. “I would really prefer not to talk right now.” 

“Fine,” Uther said, irritated, “you don’t have to talk to me. You don't need to tell me the truth, but you are never allowed to see that boy again.” Uther swallowed. “You are to find a new manservant immediately, and if you ever talk to Merlin again, I will banish him from Camelot.”

He spun around to face him again. “No, you can’t do that,” he said, and he didn’t care if he sounded like he was begging and pleading. He couldn’t lose Merlin. He needed to protect him, he needed to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, he… he  _ needed  _ him. “I won’t do things like that with him again. I’ll end our relationship. I promise I will, if you just let him stay around.” He tried to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying anything, but it came out anyway: “I won’t actually stop seeing him if you let him stay my manservant.” 

Uther clenched his fists again. “You've made it clear you can't control yourself around this boy,” he muttered. “You are not to see him again, or even talk to him. He can remain as Gaius's apprentice but his job as a servant is over. My decision is final.” Uther turned around, quickly leaving the room in anger. If the boy was the reason for Arthur’s rebellion, then he would have to go.

When his father left, Arthur kicked his bedpost in frustration before sitting down and burying face in his hands. They were so  _ stupid.  _ How could they possibly have not been more careful? Of course his father would choose that moment to come in without knocking,  _ of course.  _ If they had just been more careful, he and Merlin would still be together. He would have somehow gotten through a conversation with his father, and then he and Merlin could go back to… whatever. 

Now he couldn’t protect him. Maybe Merlin was a sorcerer, but he was still Arthur’s to protect, too. Who knew how long it would be before he was king? Who knew if Merlin would move on from him? He didn’t know how he was expected to go years without talking to the man who had become his best friend, who he had come to love. 

For a moment, he wished he could really defy his father. But of course he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure what his father would do, but he knew that he wouldn’t like the consequences of being truly rebellious. 

And why the hell did his father think he was being rebellious in the first place? He hadn’t been able to pick up on that, too afraid for himself and Merlin. Arthur did what he was told all the time, and he never even spoke up against Uther unless he was saying something truly awful, like depriving the lower town of food. 

He flopped back in his bed and glared up at the top of it in frustration. He wouldn’t stand for this. He didn’t know what he could do, but he couldn’t lose Merlin. If Merlin would wait until he was king, Arthur would wait for him, too.

Merlin waited outside of Arthur's door until Uther sped past him. He looked enraged, but Merlin hadn't been able to hear any of their conversation. After a while, he hesitantly opened Arthur's door and stepped in the room. He swallowed. “What was that about?” 

 

Arthur lifted his head and looked over at him. He motioned him over as he sat up again, sighing. “I’m apparently ‘rebelling,’” he muttered in irritation. He patted a place on the bed next to him, wanting to be near Merlin—possibly for the last time in a long time. “And I can’t… we can’t see each other anymore. My father fired you, and if we are seen together, he’ll banish you.” 

Merlin’s stomach dropped as he looked at him. How- why would Uther do this? How could he take the thing Merlin loved most from him? He was fired? Possible  _ banishment?  _ He chewed on his lip. “We can still find a way- right? Your father doesn't have to know.”

Merlin knew that Arthur wouldn't want to risk having him banished, but it was still worth a try. To never see Arthur again… it hurt to think about. “Please,” he added, his voice desperate.

“Merlin, if you were banished…” He shook his head. “I know you have Ealdor to go back to, but your place is here.” Arthur took his hand and squeezed it lightly. “I won’t do that to you, but when I’m king, you’ll… well, I’ll never let you leave my sight, if you can wait for me. Which you don’t have to because I know that it might be a long time, but I love you and I’ll wait.”

Arthur looked over at him, studying his face like it might be the last time he would ever see it. It hurt to know that this wouldn’t be the last time, not even in the next few years. He would see him in the halls. They would pass each other sometimes, allowed to say hi but nothing more. If he was ever wounded or needed something from Gaius, they could have a moment there. They could even potentially kiss, hold hands, but then once he had to leave, they would have to act like they were nothing to each other. He might see him out in the courtyard, smiling with Gwen, but he wouldn’t be able to take him out to the woods on hunts or patrols. He wouldn’t get to wake up every morning to his smile. They would be  _ right there _ , so close to each other, living in the same  castle, but unable to be near each other. 

He felt his heart ache with the notion of this and he dropped his hand to pull Merlin into a tight hug. “When I’m on the throne, you’ll be my consort,” he whispered into his hair.

Merlin fought back tears, returning Arthur's embrace. “My place is at your side, Arthur. I would wait a thousand lifetimes for you.” Merlin thought about the days ahead. What would he do without Arthur? Arthur may have thought otherwise, but he was Merlin’s to protect. He had made it his job to keep Arthur safe these past few years. He supposed that he still could—he could watch from a distance. Get rid of assassins, and direct threats within the city. But what about when Arthur left? When he was out on hunting trips or going on horrifying quests. Who would protect him then?

Arthur pulled away from the hug to cup his cheek lightly. He looked into his eyes for a moment and then kissed him, trying to convey all of his care and love into the one press of lips. “Merlin,” he breathed when he pulled away, fearing that his eyes would start to fill soon as well. “Merlin, I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. You’re more important to me than I think I’ve ever realized before.” 

The tears that had been so desperate to escape his eyes finally began to roll down Merlin’s cheeks. He looked at Arthur, not sure what to say. How did one say goodbye when you weren't just leaving for a few days, or even a few weeks for travel? How did you say goodbye to someone you love when you wouldn’t see them—not really—for years to come? He swallowed. “You're everything to me, Arthur,” he said, “just don't… don't be a  _ prat. _ Keep yourself safe. For me.”

Arthur wiped the tears away from Merlin’s cheeks. “Anything for you,” he told him softly with a weak smile. “You keep yourself safe too, okay? Find out how to fix the truth spell so you don’t tell anyone else about your magic. I won’t have you being executed.” He kissed him again, for a little bit longer this time. When he pulled away from the kiss, he tugged Merlin close and kissed him again, knowing that this was really goodbye. This was really it. “And don’t cry. I told you once no man is worth your tears, didn’t I? I hate to see you cry.” 

Merlin let out a short, unenthusiastic chuckle. “You're certainly not.” Standing up, he looked down at Arthur. “So… this is goodbye?” His stomach twisted into a knot when he said the words—this  _ really was goodbye _ for him and Arthur. It didn’t feel real yet, but at the same time, it felt  _ too real. _ He let out a breath, picking up the jacket that he had dropped onto the floor earlier. “I suppose… I'll see you around.” Merlin knew that he really should have been leaving then. He should have just walked out of that door for the last time, avoid any further drama, but he couldn't help leaning in to kiss Arthur one final time.

Arthur cupped Merlin’s neck as he kissed him back, relishing in the moment. He never wanted to pull away from him, but when he did, he studied his face. His sweet blue eyes, his ridiculously long ears, his dark and curly hair. He wanted to remember how he looked up close like this, not just in the distance. After a moment, he finally moved away, though his eyes didn’t leave his face. 

“I love you,” he told him. “I’ll be as obedient as I can. Maybe my father will feel I’m ready to be king in a couple of years. And then I’ll raise the ban on magic and we can be together.” 

“I love you too, Arthur,” Merlin whispered. “You will be a great king when the time comes. I would give my life if it weren't so.” He stood up straight again, looking at Arthur for a final moment before he turned to leave. He was no longer a servant of Camelot. No longer anything, if he couldn’t be a friend of Arthur's. For now, he wasn't even sure he was Merlin. 

When he was gone, Arthur let his rage overtake him, lest he let grief do so instead. He stood up and kicked at his bedpost again before knocking down the candelabras in his room that weren’t lit. What the hell was  _ the point  _ of claiming to care about and love his kingdom and his son so much when Uther obviously didn’t care about either? He could make good decisions here and there, but how could he pull away the man that Arthur loved without a second thought? How could he condemn so many people to die by starvation? 

How could he stand another day of being the prince? He wanted to jump to action, to be able to fix all of the things his father was doing wrong. He wanted to sit next to Merlin on the throne and actually live in a Camelot he was proud to rule over. He wanted so many things he couldn’t have, and he felt a little like a child throwing a tantrum, but it was so infuriating to be  _ this close _ to being able to fix things. 

He just wanted Merlin. All of it was manageable with the promise of seeing Merlin, and now that was gone, ripped from him by his own father. 

When he was finally done trashing his room, he looked around at the mess and thought of the new servant that wasn’t Merlin that would be coming in to clean it up the next day. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that we skipped posting yesterday.  
> Except we aren't really sorry.  
> We're just assholes.  
> Enjoy this chapter.

Arthur had had enough. He missed Merlin more and more with each passing day, and every time his new servant came in, his heart ached because it wasn’t  _ his _ manservant, not the right one. He saw Merlin a few times throughout the weeks and each time they continued past each other without a word, or Arthur had to stop himself from going down to the courtyard and kissing him breathless. 

If this was what Morgana intended, she deserved punishment, not to be sent off to the Druids. No one was allowed to take Merlin away from him. It  _ hurt _ , knowing he was a ten minute’s walk away from Merlin’s room but unable to make that short trip to see him. 

He couldn’t let this keep going. He wasn’t going to let it. His mind was made up one morning after shooing off his annoyingly complacent new servant away. He left his chambers and went in the direction of Morgana’s. 

He caught sight of Merlin walking in the halls on the way there and nearly froze. He wanted nothing more than to stop and take his hand, pull him into a hug or a kiss. He kept walking, although slower so that he could see Merlin for a moment longer. He nodded briefly to him in greeting, feeling his breath almost catch in his throat. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t just pretend like he wasn’t passing the love of his life in the halls. 

When Merlin saw Arthur, he looked down at the ground and pretended that he hadn't. He saw Arthur acknowledge him, but he didn't return it. It hurt too much—pretending that nothing was wrong.  _ Everything  _ was wrong. He passed the prince without a word and continued on down the hall.

Arthur looked down at the ground as he passed, feeling his lips purse slightly. That stung, worse than any battle wound he’d ever gotten before. He glanced back in Merlin’s direction briefly before hurrying off toward Morgana. If he couldn’t fix the situation with Merlin, he could at least ensure they would both be safe from the truth spell. 

He arrived Morgana’s chambers and knocked on her door, resisting the urge to barge in there. 

Morgana had been reading when she heard someone knock on her door. She got up from her desk and went to open it, smiling politely when she saw Arthur. She opened the door wider to allow him in. 

“Arthur!” she greeted him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” She assumed that he had come to finally complain to her about the recent events. It wasn’t unlike Arthur to come discuss his problems with her, so she prepared herself to play the part of an innocent, loving friend.

Arthur stepped into the room, his face displaying all of the anger he was feeling toward her. “Take away the spell,” he snapped at her angrily. “I know that you put it on us and it’s gotten out of hand.” He stood at his full height, making himself look like the intimidating, powerful prince that he was. “I won’t stand for this any longer, Morgana.” 

Morgana stared at him, innocently. “What are you talking about, Arthur? A spell? Magic is outlawed, you of all people know that.” She shook her head. How the _ hell _ had Arthur found out about it? How much did he know exactly? “Sit down, you look exhausted.” Morgana gestured towards her empty desk chair.

“Merlin saw you putting something in my wine,” he snapped at her. “I don’t know what you want from me out of all of this, but all you had to do was ask and I would have helped you. No one thinks they can trust me but I’m not like my father, I’m not, and I wouldn’t have hurt you.” Somewhere in the middle of that, his voice had developed some sadness, some ache for the lost Morgana. The girl who was sweet and passionate and insightful seemed to have given way to this hate-filled, vengeful witch. 

Morgana’s bit her lip. Dammit. Damn _ Merlin _ . Why did he always have to meddle with things? He was nothing but a serving boy! A worthless, pathetic nobody! And he was defying  _ her _ ?

She quickly cleared a momentary look of shock from her face and it turned into a confused frown. “Whatever Merlin thinks he saw is wrong. I never did anything to your wine, Arthur. I do trust you, and you should trust me, too.”

“I know that you did,” he said, trying to keep himself as calm as possible. He couldn’t make yelling at her his first response. “Please, Morgana. I’ll beg if you want me to. I  _ have  _ to get the cure.” 

She shook her head. “I  _ don't have one _ ,” she said, “because I  _ didn't do anything _ !” Morgana turned away. “Please just leave, Arthur. It's obvious you've only come to make false accusations.” She dismissed Arthur, beginning to walk towards her desk. How much had Merlin seen? How much had he told Arthur? 

Through castle gossip, Morgana had heard about Merlin losing his job as a servant. When she questioned Uther, he explained that Merlin and Arthur were not allowed to see each other or Merlin would be banished. She didn't question why, seeing as Uther didn’t appear to want to explain, and she assumed that it had something to do with the truth spell she had put on Arthur. If Merlin was going to be causing Morgana so much trouble, perhaps she could arrange for Uther to catch them together. She sighed, sitting down. “Go,” she repeated, looking up at Arthur, agitated.

Arthur glared at her and shook his head. He didn't know what he expected to get out of this, but he was desperate. He needed help figuring this out. He needed Merlin.

He stormed from the room and went back to his chambers, glad that no one approached him on the way there. He thought that that might have had something to do with the fact that he looked visibly like he was fuming. He reached his chambers and slammed the doors, looking around at the room. He wanted his sword. He wanted to hit something, needed to get rid of all this anger. He considered briefly going out to the training field, but that wasn't going to help Merlin. 

He knew Merlin had kept some of the wine without initially telling him, thinking they would maybe need it to get the cure from it. He suspected it was in Merlin’s room. If Morgana wouldn't tell the truth, and they still had a sample of the truth spell… 

He had the first part of a plan now, but how the hell was he going to get it to Morgana? She would never trust him enough to drink any wine he provided. She was much smarter than that. Who would she trust, who had the access to give her wine without arousing suspicion?

Guinevere. 

He didn't know where she would be, so he stepped out of his chambers and flagged down a passing servant. 

“I need you to get me Guinevere,” he told the servant, glancing around the hall nervously. “Have her bring food to my chambers, and tell no one but her what she's doing.”

The servant looked understandably afraid at the nature of the request, probably assuming that the Prince of Camelot was allowing a serving girl into his bed. Little did he know, he was actually allowing a serving boy. 

He turned back into his chambers before he could really see the boy’s reaction and sat at his table, waiting for Gwen. 

After a few minutes, Gwen gave a short knock on the door before entering with a tray of food. She set it down, looking at Arthur. The servant that had sent her had seemed so awkward, like something was wrong. She supposed that Arthur likely wouldn't send for her unless something  _ was _ wrong. It wasn’t really that strange for the prince to seek her council, even if that was odd. “Was there something you needed me for?” Guinevere asked politely.

Arthur looked up at her and nodded. “Sit down,” he said, motioning for her to sit in the seat across from him. “I know that we have… have not been as close lately, but I need your help. It will be a dangerous task, and I think you probably deserve some explanation as to why I need you to do it.”

Guinevere sat down across from him, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“Merlin and I have been enchanted to tell the truth,” he began, pushing aside the tray of food. His mind was too all over the place to even begin to eat. “Here, you can eat this if you're hungry. Anyway, it was Morgana that enchanted us. Merlin and I have some secrets that… can't get out. It's very dangerous for us to be under the truth spell, so we need the cure, which Morgana knows about but won't tell us. If we can put her under the same spell, we can get the cure, and Merlin hid some of the wine with the potion in it somewhere.” 

Gwen stared at him. Morgana? Putting them under a spell? She knew that Morgana was a sorceress, but she never thought she would do anything  _ like that.  _ Morgana had such a pure heart, she would never want to hurt her friends—but then again, she had been acting very strangely lately. She had been somewhat distant…

After a moment, Gwen swallowed. “How do you plan to get the wine? You aren't allowed around Merlin right now… I suppose I could ask him for you?” She felt a little awkward mentioning Merlin’s situation, considering Arthur had never told her. Practically everyone in the castle knew about him being fired, though no one knew why. Gwen had a hunch that it had something to do with Merlin’s feelings for Arthur—if they were under a truth spell, that made a lot more sense to her.

He nodded. “I'll need you to,” he told her. “And then I'll need you to give it to Morgana somehow.” He looked at her apologetically, not wanting to put her into this dangerous situation. If Morgana realized what Gwen was doing, she could potentially decide that the easiest way out of the situation in her anger was to kill her. “I'm sorry for bringing you into this, Guinevere, but I need you. Merlin and I need you.” 

She nodded. “I understand, Arthur, you can trust me.” She laid a hand on Arthur’s forearm. Gwen wasn’t completely sure that this was a good idea. Sure, Arthur was her friend, but Morgana was, too. Of course, she wasn't going to endanger Merlin and Arthur just to keep Morgana happy—of course she wasn't. “Do you need me to do it right now?”

He nodded. “As soon as possible, at least. And it doesn't matter how you give it to her, just that it gets to her,” Arthur said. 

Guinevere nodded one last time, standing up. “Then I will speak with Merlin now.” She turned towards the door, leaving. She was now on a mission. A mission for Arthur—even if he didn’t love her back, she was still his friend, and would do  _ almost _ anything for him.

Arthur watched as she walked away and let out a sigh, running a hand over his face. He was so worried for Gwen. She didn't deserve to be dragged into something like this, but if there was any other way, he would go through with it instead. He didn't have much time, and this was the best plan he could come up with this quickly. 

 

….

 

Not seeing Arthur for the past few weeks had been agonizing for Merlin, but what hurt even more was when he  _ did  _ see him—passing each other in the halls, or when Merlin saw him training his knights. It hurt to be reminded that he wasn't allowed to talk to him. He couldn’t hold him or kiss him or even simply bring him his breakfast in the morning like he used to. He couldn’t wait for the day Arthur took the throne. He fantasized about throwing his arms around him right after the crown was placed on his head, crying happily into his shoulder and just  _ being _ with him.

Merlin had spent the day in the woods gathering herbs for Gaius. He was covered in dirt from tripping a few times, and his feet hurt beyond belief, but the worst part had been that he had time to think about  _ everything _ while he was alone in the woods.

He looked around, setting his sack of herbs on the table for Gaius to find later. He had expected his mentor to be in his chambers by the time he returned, but Gaius was a busy man. There was no shortage of illnesses within Camelot, making the sight of Gaius rare as of late.

He took off his jacket and set it over the back of a chair before sitting down in it. He let his face fall into his hands and sighed. How long would it even be before Arthur took the throne? It could be years, or it may not even happen. With the truth spell in place, Merlin wouldn't be surprised if Uther eventually disinherited his son. 

There was a knock on the door, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up as Guinevere entered and smiled. Even with all of this going on, seeing his friend would still always cheer him up. “Gwen, is there something you need?”

“Merlin,” Gwen said in greeting as she entered the chambers that felt cluttered—as was the norm for the court physician and Merlin. She wrung her hands nervously as she closed the doors behind her, sending a paranoid glance over her shoulder just as the door clicked shut. She didn’t often take part in things like this, and while she knew that she would never say no when two people she felt close to needed her help, she was still worried about what would happen if Morgana found out. She knew that Morgana still trusted her, and she still cared for her, but she had no idea what the sorceress was capable of anymore. “Arthur has asked for my help. I’m to give Morgana the wine that has the truth spell in it—he says you took it somewhere.” 

Thankfully, she was able to keep herself from rambling on despite her nerves just this once. She knew the mission she was on and she knew that it needed to be gotten down to quickly. 

Merlin looked at her, thinking. So, Arthur had told her about the truth spell, and now had the crazy idea that turning it on Morgana was a good plan. He sighed, of course, he didn’t have a choice but to tell Gwen where he put the wine. “It's in the cupboard in my room.” Merlin pointed to the small room towards the back. “Is Arthur sure he knows what he's doing?”

“I hope so,” she said, biting her lip a little before pulling together her resolve again. Gwen could do this, she was going to do this. “Can I go get the wine? And could you maybe help me figure out the safest way to give it to Morgana without arousing suspicion?” 

She imagined a few weeks inside Merlin’s closet wouldn’t do well for the wine. It would be noticeable if Gwen served her mistress a very old wine. 

“I think she’s dining with Uther tonight so she’ll think it odd if I offer her wine after that,” she told Merlin. 

Merlin thought for a moment. Yes, the wine had been in his cupboard for quite a few weeks, but it had already been proven that it only takes a drop to cause the effects of the enchantment, seeing as Merlin only had a sip. 

“We could just pour a little bit of the old wine into a new goblet full of fresh wine,” he said after a moment. “Will you be serving her at dinner tonight?”

“I don’t handle the wine until the kitchen helpers have already brought it out to the dinner table with them,” Gwen told him, shaking her head. She thought for a moment. She didn’t know why it needed to happen so soon, unsure which secrets the two of them held that were so life-threatening, but Arthur had seemed urgent and she wouldn’t let either of them down. “I think the safest time would be when she’s asleep.” That was actually the safest and most dangerous, but she tried to find something that could almost be construed as optimism within her.

“You may be right,” Merlin said, “but what if she wakes up and questions you? What would you tell her?” He supposed she could say something along the lines of ‘you seemed to be having a nightmare, it's just your sleeping draft,’ but would Morgana really buy that?

She bit her lip again and tried to think of anything she would reasonably be doing in that situation, but shook her head. “I’ll have to make sure I’m not caught,” she said. “Is there any way I could alert Arthur that she’s woken up?” He was the only one who would protect her in that situation that she knew of. 

“Maybe he could come with you? He could wait outside the door?” Merlin turned towards his room to retrieve the wine, motioning for Gwen to follow.

She nodded, following him toward his room. “All right,” she said. “We’ll just have to be quiet so no one notices us.” It wouldn’t be weird for her to be seen traveling up to Morgana’s chambers in the middle of the night, but no doubt it would look all kinds of wrong for Arthur to be with her and for him to wait outside with his sword or some other weapon on him.

Merlin opened the cupboard, pulling out the pitcher full of wine. He handed it to Gwen. “Alright, Gwen,” he said, “be careful.”

If there was anyone that Merlin trusted with this task, it was Guinevere, but he still felt a little bad at endangering her like this—and with Arthur coming along? They could both get in serious trouble, especially with Uther suspicious of Arthur like he had been recently.

She nodded, taking the pitcher and looking down at it for a moment, gathering her courage. “I’ll tell you how things turn out,” she promised him before turning out of his chambers and rushing back in the direction of Arthur’s. 

When she got there, she knocked on the door again, holding onto the pitcher. 

Arthur came to the door and opened it. “Guinevere,” he said, stepping aside so she could come in. He saw the pitcher and thought briefly of the fact that she got to talk to Merlin, but he pushed aside that stupid jealousy. “Have you figured out how you’re going to give the wine to Morgana?” 

Gwen nodded, stepping into the room. “Merlin and I decided that I should give it to her in her sleep,” she said, “but I'm going to need you to wait outside her door in case she wakes up. Are you alright with that?”

He nodded to her. “Of course I am,” he said, not willing to risk her safety for his own, especially not since they were going through with such a difficult plan. “That won’t be until tonight, then, will it? You’ll have to sneak back here and let me know when you’re doing it.”

Gwen agreed, not sure when Arthur meant by ‘tonight’ though she assumed that it was after everyone was in bed. There would still be guards around the castle, of course, but it would be easier to get around. Besides that, Morgana often took a little longer to fall into a deep sleep than the rest of the people in the castle. She swallowed, realizing what she was planning. She was about to betray Morgana.


	11. Chapter 11

The sun had gone down hours ago and everyone had retreated to their chambers, leaving the halls of the castle dark, haunted by the lurking shadows of the objects that blocked the light from the moon. Guinevere stood outside of Arthur's chambers, clutching a small vial filled with the special wine in her small, shaking fingers. There was no better time to do this than now, with no servants rushing around to be suspicious of them, but it was also a horrible time if they were really trying not to be suspicious—if someone were to see two figures lurking around the palace at night, what would they do? Call the guards, most likely.

She took a breath as she knocked gently on Arthur's door, trying not to let the sound carry through the halls. There was no answer. Gwen chewed on her lip. She wouldn't be surprised if Arthur had fallen asleep himself, it was  _ very  _ late, after all, and Arthur had had a very rough week. She hesitantly pushed open Arthur's door and stepped inside, relieved to see him at his desk. She must have just knocked  _ too  _ quietly.

Arthur looked up at her and sat up straighter in his chair as he yawned. His eyes had begun to droop and his head to loll when she entered. “Is it time?” he asked her as he got up, running a hand over his face. He went to where he had left his scabbard and sword, putting them on. “Let's go.” 

Gwen and Arthur silently made their way through the hall, sure to keep out of sight of any guards that were keeping watch. Nothing but their light footsteps could be heard echoing off of the walls. They stopped outside of Morgana’s chambers.  

Gwen looked at Arthur, holding the vial tighter in her hand. “If anyone comes, you should hide. You won't be able to lie to them.”

Arthur nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, looking around the hallway cautiously. “Yell for me if anything happens.” He looked back at Gwen again, his hand ready and resting on the pommel of his sword, wanting to be able to pull it out quickly if anything went wrong. “Good luck, Guinevere, and please be careful. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt,” he told her, the truth spell making him say it, but he didn't mind. Even though he loved Merlin, Gwen was still a dear friend. 

Arthur's words stung Guinevere.  _ Morgana _ ? Hurting her? She couldn’t bear to think about it. More than that, Arthur was worried about her. Even though he only thought of her as a friend, Gwen loved him beyond that. She pressed her lips together. 

After a moment’s hesitation, she quietly pushed Morgana’s door open and stepped in, closing it behind her. She let out a breath, observing the dark room. Morgana laid on her back in her beautiful white night gown, surrounded by her silk sheets, her face framed by her curly black hair. The night casted shadows onto her flawless pale face. 

Gwen crossed the room and looked down on her, considering what she was about to do. They had been best friends for more years than Gwen could count, even if she was only a servant and Morgana was the king’s ward. She moved a piece of hair out of Morgana’s face and moved the vial to lean against her lips. It wasn’t poison, Gwen knew, but it still felt wrong. It was magic—dark magic—that she was using against her friend.

_ For Arthur and Merlin, _ she reminded herself, tipping the vial. The liquid spilled into Morgana’s mouth and Gwen tucked the vial into her pocket. She watched as Morgana swallowed in her sleep—it was done, and without any complications. She sighed in relief before turning to leave.

When she reemerged from Morgana’s chambers, Arthur let out a relieved breath and smiled at her. “Thank you, Gwen,” he said. “Merlin and I will be fixed soon.” 

His excitement was short-lived, however, as he realized that this would not fix the fact that they weren't allowed to see each other. 

He pushed the thought away and instead looked over at Gwen, indeed still happy for her safety. “You're very brave, Guinevere,” he said, not having the same faith as she did in Morgana. He was sure she would have hurt her had Gwen been caught. “I can't thank you enough for doing this.” 

…

A couple days later, Arthur led a major hunt with some of his knights. Since it was entering wintertime, there were to be many hunts, especially since they needed to compensate for the lack of crops grown throughout this year. He tried to make the most of it seeing as he normally enjoyed hunts, with or without Merlin, and he and his men had a good enough time. He still missed Merlin’s eye rolls and his readiness to be home as soon as they possibly could. 

He spent a lot of time silent, though, while his men were in far better moods than he was. It gave him enough time to think about Merlin and how much he wanted to see him. 

He didn’t realize it when his men started running, not even sure what animal they were going after this time. They had abandoned their horses at their last stop, the few servants they brought along left behind to tie them up and then chase after them. He was still distracted until one of his friends, Sir Pellinore, alerted him to the chase. 

He nodded. “Right. Yes, of course,” he said, like he had been aware of the situation the whole time. He began to run after them. He and Pellinore tried to go quickly to catch up to the group, which was fine until he was on the ground and felt a sharp, hot pain in his ankle. He didn’t cry out—he had felt much worse pain before, by far—but it did  _ not  _ feel good. 

“Sire!” a couple of knights called as they ran over to him. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered as he pulled himself up, favoring his left ankle and letting himself be helped back to his horse, humiliating though it was to temporarily need this kind of help. As soon as he was on his horse, he waved off the knight that offered to go back with him. “Actually, it really hurts, but I'll be fine.”

If he was honest, he was excited despite the pain. Getting hurt meant going to Gaius, and Gaius’s chambers would likely hold Merlin, seeing as it would be around dinner time when he returned. 

He rode back alone, feeling his heart beating happily at the thought of seeing him again, which he never would admit. Unless he was asked, of course, because then he would have to admit it, but whatever. Once he got back into the courtyard, he let his new servant, George, take his horse. He waved him off as he limped in the direction of Gaius’s chambers, taking back ways so as not to run into anyone who might insist on helping him. When he finally arrived, he knocked on the door, leaning on his right leg. 

As he had been a lot lately, Gaius was off helping a patient in the lower town. It was something small—the common cold, he believed—but it was spreading like a plague out there due to the cold weather coming in so quickly. Merlin had been left alone in Gaius's chambers, no longer having any work to attend to from the prince. When he heard a knock on the door, he assumed that it was just another patient who was looking for a quick remedy for the sneezing and headache. He opened the door, with a potion already in his hand to give out, but he dropped it when he saw Arthur on the other side. 

“You're not supposed to be here!” Merlin said, though he didn't close the door.

Arthur stepped in, careful of his ankle, and shut the door behind them, smiling at him a little. “I came for Gaius. Hurt my ankle,” he said, reaching out and taking Merlin’s hands and hoping he wouldn't pull them away. “Where is he?” 

Being able to see Merlin and touch him was an instant relief. He missed everything about him—missed his smile, his kisses, his laugh, his casual touches. He missed him more than he thought he could miss something. He moved closer to him and squeezed his hands a little. 

Merlin wanted to pull away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was Arthur—god, he loved him, but what could he do for him if he was banished? Merlin looked away from Arthur's eyes. “Gaius isn't here,” he said. “Maybe— maybe I could treat you?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding and reluctantly dropping his hands. He walked over to the patient bed, sitting and looking up at him as well. “My father can't get mad if he finds out. I actually hurt my ankle, and you're a physician in training so it only makes sense that you would help me in Gaius’s stead.”

Merlin nodded in agreement, though his voice wasn’t able to fake it with him. “Your father is cruel, I wouldn't exactly put it past him.” Merlin sighed, kneeling down to observe Arthur's ankle. It wasn’t swollen or purple—which was good, so it wasn't sprained, or even broken- but he felt Arthur stiffen when he moved it. 

“It looks like you've just twisted it badly. It will heal on its own by the end of the day, but I could still give you something for the pain if you'd like.” Merlin stood up, not meeting Arthur's eyes, and turned towards Gaius's shelf of potions and medications. He grabbed a small vial filled with purple liquid and handed it to Arthur. “That's all that can be done for it.”

Arthur took the vial and nodded. “Can I stay for just a minute longer?” he asked him, though he knew that if he wanted to, he could damn well stay almost anywhere he liked for just a minute longer. He always felt the need to treat Merlin more like an equal than anyone else, though, even though he did think all the people around him were equals to him. “It won’t look suspicious as long as I don’t stay too long.”

Merlin thought for a moment. It definitely wouldn't be a good idea, but just looking at Arthur's face—his begging blue eyes that he could never really say no to—he agreed. 

“Just a few minutes,” he said, strictly, but he gave the prince a light smile.

Arthur smiled back at him and tugged him close gently. “Let's make the most of these few minutes then,” he said, realizing he would go insane if he had to stay away from Merlin for years without at least a few moments here and there to spend with him. “I can't do this—staying away from you. I miss you.” He reached up and cupped his cheek, stroking his face with his thumb lightly. 

Merlin didn't want to say anything, he feared that if he did he would just end up in tears. Instead, he lightly pressed his lips against Arthur's, closing his eyes and preserving the moment. He had longed to have Arthur close to him again, even for just a second like this, and— the door opened.  _ Rats. _

Arthur looked up toward the door, shoving Merlin away gently as he looked at whoever it was—and felt his stomach tie itself in knots when he saw one of the knights from the hunt standing in the doorway with Gaius. “Sir Ethan,” Arthur said as he got to his feet, and then winced at the pain his ankle. “This isn't— Merlin was just treating my ankle. And then kissing me.”  _ Damn it.  _

Merlin cringed. Why did something bad always happen when he got anywhere with Arthur? Maybe it was a sign that they weren't supposed to be together. Merlin was just supposed to help Arthur become a good king and then say goodbye.

Sir Ethan swallowed. “I—er—I brought Gaius for you. But it seems that you don't need him right now, with your… ex-servant.” He glanced at Merlin. “Sire, I’m going to have to tell the king. I'm sorry.”

“No, I order you not to,” he said, standing up tall—or as tall as he could while he was leaning on his uninjured leg. “You can't tell him, Ethan.” His voice was authoritative, princely, but he couldn't help but add, “Please.” 

He couldn't do this. He couldn't lose Merlin. He couldn't have him banished for years. He missed him so much already, even when he was in the same room with him. He missed their regular routine, missed everything about having Merlin close. He would do anything to ensure that Merlin was able to remain in his rightful place in Camelot, and stay at Arthur’s side for as long as they both lived, like he should. 

Ethan glared at him for a moment before sighing. “Arthur, he's the king, I can't keep secrets from him.” He hesitated for a moment, looking from Arthur, to Merlin, to Gaius, before he turned to leave, leaving the three in the room.

“Shit!” Arthur snapped in frustration, wanting to hit something. He looked at the other two in the room, unsure what to do now. He was an idiot,  _ such an idiot. _ He couldn’t keep himself away from Merlin even if it was in both of their best interests, and now he had likely gotten him banished from his  _ home  _ for one kiss. “Merlin…” He didn’t know what to say that could make up for it. It was all his fault. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

There was no way out of this. There was nothing he could do to keep Merlin safe in Camelot, not if his return was punishable by death. He knew that in a few years he would be able to return, but if he couldn’t handle a few weeks of barely seeing him, how could he handle years without seeing him at all? 

After the initial shock wore off, Merlin turned to Arthur. The horrible, indescribable look in his eyes made Merlin’s stomach sink. He wrapped his arms around the prince’s shoulders, turning his face into the crook of his neck. “I'll be alright,” he said, quietly. “If I'm banished, I promise I will find my way back to you.”

Gaius cleared his throat, causing Merlin to push off of Arthur and look at him. “Can't you two stay out of trouble?” Gaius sighed. “I was gone for an hour…”

Arthur kept close to Merlin even after he moved away, not caring if anyone walked in now. It was all over anyway. He would take advantage of his last moments for a long time with him. He took his hand and laced their fingers. “It’s my fault,” he said quietly, letting out a heavy sigh. He looked down at their hands and squeezed Merlin’s. “I’m sorry. You’ll be going back to Ealdor, won’t you? We can write to each other.” 

“Please don't blame yourself, Arthur. If I hadn't wanted it, I would have pushed you away long before anyone could walk in,” Merlin said. He was tempted to lean in and kiss Arthur again, but felt awkward with Gaius's eyes on them. He sighed, pulling away. “I suppose I should start packing. I wouldn't be surprised if Uther wanted me to leave tonight.”

Arthur bit his lip slightly. “I'll help you,” he told him, his voice quiet and full of guilt. 

He wished he was king, wanting to right all his father’s wrongs. He wanted to bring magic back, to ensure any man worthy could be a knight, to hold onto Merlin and keep him close. One day, Merlin would be so much more than a servant in Camelot if he had anything to do with it. He would be court sorcerer, or king-consort if he wished to be. He would fix all of this, and his father wouldn't be able to intervene. 

Merlin looked  around, he hadn't come to Camelot with very many belongings, and he wouldn't be leaving with much more. “I can just do it on my own,” he said, “you should—” Merlin was cut off when the door opened again, and Uther stood there with three guards, one of them being Sir Ethan- that traitor.

The look on Uther's face was pure disappointment—he had tried to give Arthur a choice, but he just couldn't help himself. He couldn’t stay away. Uther looked at Merlin, coldly. “You need to leave the city tonight. The penalty of your return is death.” His eyes went back to Arthur, but he spoke to the guards. “Keep Arthur in his chambers, no one is to go in or out tonight.” Uther wanted to say something else, to ask his son why he was behaving like this. Did he  _ want _ to dishonor him? He looked at Gaius, stressed. And Gaius, too, could have done something here. “Were you just going to  _ let _ them?”

Arthur held tighter to Merlin’s hand when Uther arrived, keeping the surprise of him coming so quickly hidden. He stepped in front of Merlin some, a challenge to his father and the knights, like he was daring them to lay a hand in Merlin. He wasn't in his chainmail, but he still had his sword on him. He didn't know what he'd actually be able to do, but he wasn't about to be pulled away from his only chance to say goodbye. He wasn't about to let them manhandle him, or give him dirty or disgusted looks. 

“Gaius could not have done anything, just as you cannot, Father,” Arthur snapped, his grip on Merlin’s hand becoming desperate, territorial, practically screaming through touch,  _ Mine. He's mine and I'm his, and there's nothing you can do to change that.  _ “No matter what you do, I will not marry another. Banishing him will only make me resent you.”

He knew these words were dangerous, perhaps a bit  _ too  _ challenging, and that he shouldn't take this any further. But he felt the weight of losing Merlin, of sending him unprotected to another man’s kingdom, crushing him. He could hardly help what he said, either, because the truth spell wanted him to confess just how violently he loathed his father and how violently he loved his Merlin. 

Merlin looked at Arthur—did he just say that he wanted to  _ marry  _ him? In all of the madness that Merlin had witnessed since he arrived in Camelot, he would have never had guessed he would hear Arthur say that. He clutched his hand tighter in his own and swallowed, looking back at the king. Uther’s face had gone pale.

Uther had raised Arthur better than this, he didn’t sacrifice so much to have him marry a  _ serving boy _ . “Have you gone mad?” Uther said, quietly. He sounded exhausted, stressed, disappointed, and  _ betrayed,  _ all at once. If this was truly what Arthur wanted—no. He had to be under some kind of spell. He looked away from Arthur, hurt. “Get him to his chambers. Now,” he said, turning away.

As the knights came forward to grab him, Arthur stepped back, pulling Merlin with him. “Just let me say goodbye,” he pleaded. His hold on Merlin was now tight enough that he thought it probably hurt, though he couldn't bring himself to let go for fear of never holding his hand again. His arms were grabbed and his hand wrenched away from Merlin’s, and he felt himself breaking down. How would he protect Merlin? What would he do if he was hurt and Arthur wasn't there? What would he do if he never became king and they never saw each other again?

“No!” he shouted as he was pulled away, struggling against their strong grips on his arms. His eyes were wet and he felt the tears beginning to spill over. It was stupid, so  _ stupid.  _ He shouldn't have been crying but he couldn't stop it. He was almost to the door and the only progress he had made against the knights was to irritate them. “Merlin, I love you!”

He stopped struggling when he was out of the door and let himself be tugged to his chambers. When he was tossed in, he collapsed onto his bed and wiped at his wet eyes, though the tears kept spilling. He couldn't even say goodbye. He couldn't do anything but cry like an idiot and wish he hadn’t been so risky. 

Long after Arthur was dragged away, Merlin stared at the door. That was likely the last time that he would be seeing Arthur for years. He replayed Arthur words in his head, his desperate voice— _ Merlin! I love you! _

He sighed when Gaius placed a comforting hand on his back. “Come on, my boy,” Gaius said. “We need to get you packed.”

Merlin nodded and followed Gaius to his room where they gathered all of his things and shoved them into his tight pack. He half-heartedly grabbed his magic book, tucking it under clothes in his bag, and his staff, wrapping it up in a thick piece of brown cloth. Once he had emptied the room of his belongings, he set his bag down on the table. He would be leaving  _ tonight. _


	12. Chapter 12

Morgana had spent the day in her chambers, watching the people down in the courtyard from her window. She heard servants slip in and out of her room, but she paid them no attention. She noticed when Arthur came back from his hunt early, and he appeared to have a limp—which she supposed meant that fate would not be needing her assistance in getting Merlin and Arthur back together, considering that Merlin spent all of his time in the physician's chambers now that he was without a job. The knights were supposed to be training that night, as well, but Arthur was nowhere to be seen on the training field when the time came. A smile crossed her lips. Does this mean that she had successfully created tension between Arthur and Uther?

If Arthur was disinherited, there would be no one else in her way of the throne. In fact, Uther could even crown her as his new heir, rendering her future plans of attack useless. She tapped her fingers against the window pane, grinning at her own cleverness.

Her door opened, causing her to spin around, seeing Gwen as she entered. “Guinevere? Did I not give you today off?”

Gwen looked up at Morgana. With everything that had happened the night before, she couldn't remember if Morgana had given her the day off or not. “I'm not sure, my lady,” she told her honestly as she began to pick things up anyway. She felt guilty about turning against her friend; the least she could do was help out even on her day off. “Uther has asked that you dine with him again tonight.” 

“Again?” she frowned. “What for?” Uther usually only dined with her for one of two reasons—they hadn't spoken in awhile, or something had happened that he wanted to discuss with her. It couldn’t have been the first one, considering that they had seen a lot of each other lately, so it had to be because of Arthur. “It's likely because I told him that his son is rebelling, and now that he has the thought in his head, that's how he sees Arthur's actions.” Morgana fixed her jaw.  _ She hadn’t wanted to say that aloud! _ She looked to the floor, thinking. She hadn’t drank any wine lately, so there was no way that she could have consumed her own potion. It must have simply been a mistake of thinking out loud. 

Gwen raised her eyebrows, trying to seem surprised by Morgana’s outburst although she knew the cause. “Why did you tell him that, my lady?” she asked. Maybe she was being too polite. She was never this formal in private with her, but she had such a guilty conscience, she felt the need to be now. “As far as I know, Arthur has been his usual self of late.” 

“Because I want to cause tension between him and Arthur,” she stated before frowning. “Just—get me a gown. Don't ask anymore questions. Please.” Morgana spun back towards her window, cursing under her breath. How would someone have gotten the potion to her? Was it even the same spell that she had used? She didn't even know anyone who had magic, so it couldn’t be a different one, could it?

Gwen nodded and went over to Morgana’s closet, pulling out her blue and purple dress for her to wear to dinner. “It's getting close to dinner time. He'll be expecting you soon,” she told her, bringing the dress over to Morgana’s dressing area so she could change out of her nightclothes. 

Morgana nodded, moving to go change behind her divider. She was careful not to speak again, and grateful that Gwen stayed silent. She wasn't sure how she would get through this dinner with Uther, but she decided that she would manage. 

When she finished dressing, she left the room without a word, there was no real need for Gwen to escort her, and she would rather go alone. She nodded politely at the guards that she passed before finally turning into the dining hall. Uther was already waiting for her in his seat.

“Ah, Morgana,” Uther said, feigning calm. Although it did brighten his mood to be having dinner with his ward, the real reason behind the dinner was his son. Having no idea what has gotten into him was stressful to say the least, if not downright infuriating. “I thought you would be late. I have a few things I would like to discuss.” 

Morgana took her seat in her usual spot near Uther, smiling. “Like what? Has something happened?” She was compelled to inform him that she already knew, but she drowned out the words by taking a drink of her wine.

“These matters with Arthur have me very concerned for him,” he told her as he took a drink of his wine. “He seems very attached to this Merlin boy. Unnaturally attached, if I know my son.” 

Morgana nods, afraid to open her mouth and speak. Her entire plan would go to hell if she told Uther about it- about her  _ magic _ . She looked away from Uther, trying to appear disinterested.

He glanced up at Morgana. “Do you think it has anything to do with magic? You know him well.” 

“I know for a fact that it is due to magic,” she blurted out. She quickly swallowed, hoping that he wouldn’t question her.  _ Damn Arthur! _ He had to turn this on her.

Uther’s eyes, which had come to rest on his plate again as he prepared to get a bite, snapped back up to Morgana quickly. He  _ knew it.  _ There was no way in hell that Arthur was being like that without it being caused by magic. No son of his was stupid enough to get attached to a serving boy.

“Was it the boy?” Uther asked, waiting impatiently in the tense air for Morgana’s answer, all thoughts of dinner disregarded. He was ready to jump out of his seat and march to Gaius and the boy’s chambers, to have orders to kill on sight so he could have his real son back. “Was it that  _ Merlin? _ ” 

“Oh, the feelings are real, but the magic was me. I put them under a truth spell,” Morgana said seriously. Her face flushed red and she attempted to laugh to make it seem like a joke. “I'm kidding, obviously—except I'm really not because I think they turned it on me and put me under the same truth spell.” She fixed her jaw, looking away.  _ Please, _ just take it as a joke, Uther.

“What are you talking about, Morgana?” he asked her with a frown. This was too much for him to process for him to immediately believe it or find it funny. Morgana didn’t have a particularly funny, joking look on her face—in fact, she looked rather upset. But there was no way in hell she was a sorceress. “I don’t understand.” 

“I'm a sorceress,” she said again. She swallowed—this was not going well. “Stop asking me questions, please.” 

Uther stared at her for a second in confusion. “No, you’re not,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know why you’re saying this, Morgana.”

She bit her lip, feeling anger spill into her veins. Uther executed so many innocent people just for looking  _ shifty _ , but she was literally admitting to it and he still managed to be ignorant! All of these years, he told her that magic was evil, that it corrupts people, but he was the only person who was corrupted here. Morgana didn’t even need the influence of the truth spell when she spat “Are you daft, Uther? I told you that I was a sorceress, and you intend to do nothing about it? I enchanted your son and lied to you, and you are too ignorant to believe it even as I say it to you directly.” She looked at him with challenging eyes. There had been no way to avoid it from the start, with Arthur— her spell on herself, she might as well have just put it out there.

Uther frowned at her for a long moment as this sunk in, feeling betrayal slowly sink into him like he had been cut down in battle. His heart ached as he looked at the girl before him, his  _ daughter _ , who had raised since she was a girl and had held dear to him since then. Arthur betraying him hurt, of course. He put all of his faith in his son, but he cared for Morgana so deeply… 

“You’re a  _ sorceress, _ ” Uther said brokenly, looking at her like she was an entirely different person. “Why? Who did this to you?”

He wouldn’t kill her, not Morgana, but he couldn’t let this continue. Even if it ruined their relationship, he would search all of Albion for a way to rid her of this retched magic.

“No one  _ did it to me _ . Magic isn't always something you choose to possess.” Morgana dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. How could he be so cruel to magic users while not even understanding the basics of it? Why was Uther so hateful? This was why Camelot needed a new ruler—not Uther or someone with his same ideals. Camelot needed Morgana.

“You can’t get away with this,” he said, standing up, ready to retrieve the guards on the other side of the doors. He stepped over to her. “I’m sorry, Morgana, I’m so sorry, but I can’t let you be infected with this disease any longer.” He looked up towards the doors, ready to call for the guards. 

Was Uther about to have her thrown in the dungeons?  _ Chained to a wall _ like he had done to her before? Or worse—was he going to have her executed? Her heart began to pound hard in her chest, how could she ever become queen if she was  _ dead _ ? Without thinking it through, Morgana jumped from her seat, grabbing the silver knife that had been placed next to her plate, and thrust it into Uther’s neck, right in the windpipe. 

Uther slumped backward, staring up at Morgana with both real and mental pain in his eyes until, after around thirty seconds that seemed to feel more like hours, the life began to drain from his eyes. He fell completely limp in his chair, eyes unseeing. 

Morgana stared as the blood dripped down his neck, her eyes wide with horror. She despised Uther, yes, but that didn't mean she wanted him  _ dead. _ A metal tray crashed to the floor and a serving girl screamed. Morgana’s head shot up to see her standing in the corner of the room. She dashed into the hall as the guards opened the large doors, reacting to her scream. 

Morgana clasped a hand over her mouth, careful not to blurt out that she was the one responsible for the dead king, dripping blood onto the chair. The guards looked at the scene, horrified, as Morgana pointed in the direction of the serving girl. She closed her eyes, hoping that she looked distressed enough for them to just leave her alone and chase after the girl.

The guards chased after the servants after looking, shocked at the sight of their dead king. One of them hesitated for a moment, looking sympathetically from the poor Lady Morgana to the violently bloodied king, but he ran in the direction of the others as well, splitting off down one hallway to go sound the alarms. 

…

When the warning bells when off, Arthur immediately went on high alert. It was an innate response to the sound, drilled into him since he was a child. He went to the doors to find the guards that were standing outside looking just as confused as he did. He went back into his chambers, grabbed his sword, and then left his room, intent on finding out what the meaning of this was. 

“Sire, you’re not to leave your chambers tonight,” one of the young knights said, sounding extremely uncomfortable to be ordering the prince around like that. 

Arthur looked at him like he would love to see him run through, and spat out, “Yes, because if the city is in danger, I’m definitely going to go see Merlin. You caught me.” 

He brushed past the two of them coldly. He knew that they were only following orders, but  _ honestly.  _ He marched down the halls, past the guards who at first seemed to be going after him. When he could no longer hear their footsteps behind them, he assumed that they’d given up in their task, which was a good thing for their sakes. If they had tried to stop him one more time, Arthur wasn’t sure he wouldn’t snap and send them down to the dungeons for a month. 

He began to get closer to the dining hall, knowing that that was where Uther would be that night.  _ Probably eating with Morgana, _ he thought bitterly.  _ Asking her why I’m such a fuck-up. _

_.... _

 

Morgana dashed through the halls as soon as the guards had left. It wouldn’t be long before they caught up to the serving girl and she explained that it had been  _ Morgana _ who killed the king, and the guards would be forced to question her as well. If Morgana was questioned while she was under the truth spell—no. That couldn’t happen. It had already caused her enough trouble, and it had only been a day.

She looked behind her, ensuring that no one was after her yet before she rounded a corner. She had just turned her head back to face in front of her when she ran directly into Arthur, sending them both to the ground. She pushed away from him, disgusted, and scrambled to her feet. 

“ _ You! _ ” she spat. “You did this to me!”

Arthur took a moment to realize what had happened, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “You did it to me!” he snapped back at her. He pushed himself to his feet as well, drawing his sword and pointing it at her. “How do you fix it, Morgana?”

“As if I would tell  _ you!”  _ Morgana shot back. She looked behind her again. “This is your doing—if you hadn't… he'd still be alive!” Morgana’s gut twisted when she reminded herself that she had killed the king. Pushing that knife into his throat… she shuddered. “To get rid of the spell, you must admit to yourself the thing you lie to yourself about most. And it's actually completely my fault that the king is dead,” Morgana was forced to add. She fixed her jaw, backing away from Arthur.

“The king?” he asked, feeling his heart chill and his attention on the spell disappear. He approached her, his grip on the sword furious and resolute. He didn’t know if he would actually be able to kill Morgana—not when he, too, cared so much for her, even if he didn’t show it as often because of their sibling relationship. But he felt his blood boiling, although it was almost incomprehensible, the idea of his king, his father, being dead. He didn’t care about her magic, didn’t care about how horribly annoying she could be. He felt hatred work its way into his heart at what she’d done to Merlin,  _ let alone  _ what she had apparently done to Uther. 

_ Oh, God. I’m the king. _

The thought was enough to make him falter, to drop his sword a little as he came to the realization that he would have a coronation, that he would be the leader of all of Camelot, without his father’s help. For all his anger at the man before his death, and all the things he wanted to fix while he was king, he didn’t know what to do now that he was gone. He was his father after all, and he loved him as his son, though maybe less so as his prince sometimes. 

Morgana noticed the moment Arthur got distracted by his own mind, and she took it as a chance to dash past him in the direction of the palace doors. The guards would have caught the girl by now, and they would likely be too busy with her to seal off the exits yet. She rounded another corner before she found herself at the doors, dashing out onto the steps. She stopped when she saw Gaius in front of her—that would be two people she ran into while fleeing.

“Morgana?” Gaius said, concerned. “What's happened? Why are they sounding the warning bells?”

Morgana ignored him, her heart beating fast with adrenaline. She looked over her shoulder to see Arthur running out after her. Thinking fast, Morgana grabbed Gaius by the arm and pulled him against her, wrapping her arm tight around his neck. 

“Stay back!” She shouted, desperately.  _ She had to get away from here. She had to escape.  _ She pushed her arm tighter against Gaius's neck, causing the old man's face to turn blue. He was old and weak, but he still did not put up as big of a fight as he could. He frailed a bit in her arms, but that was it. “I'll kill him! I'll do it, Arthur Pendragon. Don't test me!” It was scary, she realized as she said it, that the truth spell would not be arguing with her on that. She really was willing to kill her friend in order to get away. 

Arthur slowed to a stop when she took Gaius in her arms and held his hands up in surrender. “Morgana, let him go,” he demanded, looking from the old man with worry to Morgana with disbelief. He hadn't realized how far she had strayed from the kind, caring girl he knew from before. “He has done nothing to you and you've hurt enough people already.” 

Morgana held onto Gaius even tighter. She could feel him growing weaker but she didn't let go. She stared at Arthur, shocked at his words. “Hurt enough people? And what about Uther? What are you going to do about the people he's hurt?” 

Gaius's face was a vivid shade of purple as he struggled one last time for breath, now clawing at Morgana’s arm. When she felt him go limp, she finally released him, allowing him to fall unconscious to the ground at her feet.  She stared at him for a moment, still in shock, before pulling herself back together and looking at Arthur. 

“Let him go,” he snapped again, taking a step toward her when the old man fell to the ground. He wasn't as close to him as Merlin, of course, or even as Morgana had been. But when he was younger he had always been there when he was hurt to help him, listen to him rant, and make him feel better. He wouldn't see him die—he couldn't. Not after his father already… “Please, Morgana, he's done nothing. He's your  _ friend. _ ”

“And you are too, right?” she spat, disgusted. “What does friendship mean to you? Letting me watch as you persecute my kind just for  _ existing _ ?” She bit her tongue back, taking a breath. “You never believed me when I told you about my nightmares. About the future. You let me think I was  _ crazy,  _ Arthur… and so did he.” She glanced down at Gaius. He was breathing normally again.

The old man's eyes fluttered open and his vision focused. He watched, silently, as the two argued. He knew that Morgana had magic, and it was true that he had kept it from her… he thought that it was the right thing to do. Had he been wrong?

“Morgana, I'm king now, not my father,” he said gently, wanting to try to break through to his Morgana, his sister. “I'm going to lift the ban.” He tried to convey how sincere he was, how little he wished to see her or anyone like her hurt for how they were born. “We all make mistakes, and I've made plenty, but I intend to make up for them.”

She stepped back, ignoring his words. “Please, Arthur. Just let me go,” she said. Her voice was desperate, begging. Gaius groaned, turning his head to look at Arthur as Morgana backed away.

“I can't let you go, but I promise no harm will come to you,” he said, stepping toward her again. He tried to seem as nonthreatening as he possibly could while he went over to Gaius, taking the old man’s hand and helping him to his feet gently. Once he was standing, he made a gesture he hoped Gaius would interpret as “ _ run _ ,” and then he took another step toward Morgana. 

Morgana fixed her jaw. “I'm warning you! Leave me be!” She stepped back again, hands raised in a defensive way. When Arthur stepped towards her a bit too quickly, her eyes flashed gold and Gaius, who had been attempting to flee the scene, was sent flying backwards, slamming fatally into the castle wall. She let out a scream when she did it, half in surprise. 

Arthur looked at him in horror and rushed over to him, kneeling next to him and feeling for a pulse he knew wasn't there. “God, Gaius,” he breathed, feeling a pain in his chest at the sight of the dead man before him. What was Merlin going to do? What was he going to do about Uther? All he wanted to do was curl up with Merlin and forget this day had ever happened. 

When Arthur ran to Gaius, Morgana turned and fled. She knew that he would be too worried about his now dead friend to chase after her, and that the guards would still be too worried about the dead king. She made her way past the gates and out into the forest before she finally slowed down, catching her breath. She could never return to Camelot, she realized, at least not until she was ready to become queen.


	13. Chapter 13

Arthur didn’t have the heart to go after Morgana when she fled. He had lost too much already, and he feared that fighting with her would only end in more bloodshed. He wasn’t sure at first what to do with Gaius’s body. He wanted to go see his father’s, but he thought by now some of the guards might have taken him to Gaius’s chambers for the time being until the undertaker could prepare him for the funeral. 

It took a lot of distancing himself from the situation to be able to think about the logistics of getting these bodies where they needed to go for the funerals. He was sure bottling up the emotions like this was only going to result in a bigger breakdown later when it all hit him. But as he walked through the castle, Gaius in his arms, and began to go through the more populated hallways, he realized that it was his duty now as king to remain strong. He would have time to grieve when he was alone.

But it was too difficult, and by the time he was entering the tower leading up to the physician’s chambers—no longer Gaius’s—he felt his eyes filling with tears. He realized that Merlin would be up there in his room and thought of the devastated look he would hold when he saw his father figure like this. He quickly blinked away his tears before pushing the door open and stepping into the room. 

As he suspected, he saw Uther’s body in the room on the bed, dried blood all down his front. Arthur couldn’t keep the tears out of his eyes as he brought Gaius over and laid him next to the king—former king. The only thing Arthur could think of for a second was how that completely violated protocol, that a man like Gaius shouldn’t be able to lay side by side with the king in death according to what was expected of everyone. 

But that didn’t matter. It didn’t  _ matter  _ because his father was lying dead on the bed, his eyes still opened and unseeing. His eyes made him feel sicker than the wound in his neck did. He was used to gory battle scenes; he wasn’t used to seeing his father, so pale and weak and lifeless. After shutting his empty eyes, he gripped his hand and pulled it to his lips, letting the tears spill freely.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to him, realizing now that he and his father had ended things not in the best sort of ways. He couldn’t believe Morgana, his all-but-sister, had done this to two of the men that Arthur cared so much about. 

He also realized that Merlin wasn’t in the main chambers and wondered if he hadn’t heard Arthur come in. If he had maybe fallen asleep, if he hadn’t even seen Uther’s body yet. He wiped at his eyes, though more tears quickly replaced the ones that already left stains down his cheeks. 

There was so much he wanted to say to his father, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. He needed Merlin, and when Merlin saw what happened, he would need him too. So he pulled himself from the bodies, tried to force himself to stop his crying. It was difficult because at some point it had transformed from just tears to a red face and a stuffy nose and blurry eyes. It wasn’t quite ugly-crying, but it was enough that he was sure he looked a mess. 

He went to Merlin’s room and knocked on the door before peeking his head in, looking around in there for him. 

Merlin was lying on his side, sleeping. He had spent the day packing his things, and was supposed to leave that night, but he found his mattress to be a whole lot more comfortable now that he knew it was the last time he'd see it. He collapsed onto the bed hours ago, deciding that he would just leave early in the morning, before the king awoke. It wouldn't make much of a difference, right?

His eyes fluttered open when he heard someone knock and come in, but he turned his head into his pillow. “Did I sleep in?” he asked, groggily. It certainly felt like he had. Merlin hadn't slept very much at all recently, and he was so tired—he wouldn't be surprised if it was already the next evening.

When he didn’t hear a response, he moved to sit up. “Gaius?” he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He pulled his hand away from his face to see Arthur standing in the doorway. “...Arthur?”

Arthur went over to him, sitting on the edge of Merlin’s bed and looking at how adorably sleepy he looked. If he wasn’t still holding back his tears, he might have been able to smile at the sight. Too much had happened, though, so instead he just reached for Merlin’s hand, taking it in both of his own and stroking it with his thumb sympathetically. 

“My father is—” Arthur broke off for a second, having to clear his throat to keep his voice steady before he said it aloud, as though that would made it too real. But it was too real. He had closed his eyes, had held his hand. He let out a steadying breath. “My father is dead. Morgana killed him.”

He didn’t know how to tell him that Gaius was dead too. He knew the look on Merlin’s face would be the most heartbreaking thing he’d ever seen, so he wasn’t sure he wanted to see it. But he couldn’t let him see the body without being prepared, knowing that that would hurt even more. He had to be strong for Merlin, at least for now until they could help each other. 

“And, Merlin,” he started, voice quiet and gentle. “She didn’t just kill my father. She—she killed Gaius.” 

Merlin stared at him for a moment. It wasn’t true… it couldn’t be, could it? But then again, Arthur couldn't lie. Merlin swallowed, looking down into his lap. Arthur couldn't…. He shook his head, not sure what to say. He wasn’t very surprised that Morgana had taken Uther’s life. He was the root of her hatred, after all, but Merlin still felt a great deal of sympathy for Arthur… he rubbed his thumb across the other man's hand and squeezed it gently. 

What he didn’t understand was… why Gaius? Why the sweet, caring, friendly Gaius that everyone loved? Who had treated her since she was a child, and loved her like family? How had Morgana strayed so far from them? 

Merlin took a breath, feeling tears of his own beginning to form. He finally looked back at Arthur. “Was it quick?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Was it painless? Or did he see it coming?”

Arthur nodded. “He was running away, but his death was instantaneous,” he told him softly, wiping at his eyes again before leaning forward to kiss Merlin’s head. “He’s outside if you want to see him.” It hurt to see his father like that, but it was also the most closure he would get from this. But if Merlin wasn’t ready, he would curl up with him. He would cry with him and hold him close until they were prepared to go out and see their father figures again, together. 

Merlin nodded as well. “Will you come with me?” he asked, looking at his door. Gaius and Uther were both dead on the other side, and Merlin hadn't even known until now. He was asleep, and he didn't even heard about two very important deaths within the city. It made him think—what if his mother were to die? How long would it take before word reached him? How many days would he spend happy and ignorant before he found out? 

What if Merlin had just stayed asleep? He could be dreaming right now, carefree without the knowledge of his guardian’s death. He looked back at Arthur.

“Of course I will,” Arthur said, squeezing his hand gently. He stood up and held his hand out to him to pull him up. “We should do this together. We can do anything together now.” He didn't want to see his father dead for this, but at least he and Merlin could be together without worry now. 

He felt like crap, suddenly, for thinking like this, but he was just trying to find any bright side possible. He pushed back another onslaught of tears and tried to focus on being brave for Merlin. He didn't think he would look at Uther again when he went back out. The bloodiness made him feel horrible for how violently Morgana had betrayed him.

Merlin allowed Arthur to pull him out the door. He watched him carefully, studying his emotions. It wasn’t hard to see that Arthur was upset—of course he was. Merlin squeezed his hand again.

Before they even stepped completely into the main room, Merlin could see the bodies. Lying side by side was Uther and Gaius. A broken gasp fell from his mouth, but he quickly covered it, sobbing into his hand. He could feel his chest physically drop to his stomach, and it was painful. Having Arthur explaining it was one thing, but seeing the bodies was another. It made it real. 

Merlin released Arthur's hand and slowly walked over to Gaius's bedside. It was clear that he had not died long ago. Not even an hour, most likely. His face still held a tinge of peachy color amongst it's pale blue, but the life was drained from his eyes. Merlin fell to his knees, burying his face into Gaius's chest to cry. He screamed against the man's robes but it was muffled by the fabric that he curled his fingers into. For a moment, Merlin drained out the world around him. It was only him and Gaius, the man who had been there for him since the beginning, guided him and his magic, and helped make Camelot his home. There was no Arthur behind him, who he still needed to work things out with. There was no Morgana, who he had failed to save. There was no Uther Pendragon, no dead king on the patient’s bed behind him. There was nothing.

He wasn’t quite sure how long he had been there for, sobbing against Gaius's chest, but he eventually found himself pulling away. He took a breath and wiped away his tears. He wasn’t the first- Merlin had lost Freya not too long ago. He didn’t love her, of course, but he could have. He wanted to. He would have left the city for her, left all of this. Gaius, Gwen, the knights… and Arthur. Merlin turned around to look at Arthur—his king. How did Merlin ever think that he could leave them all?

Arthur watched him and eventually knelt next to the bed with Merlin and ran a calming hand through the man’s hair as they both cried. The prince—now king—couldn't help but look at his father and see the man who did love him, even if he didn't show it very well. He stood tall before Arthur ever since he was a little boy, showing him what it meant to be a king, what it meant to be a strong and unmovable force for Camelot. 

Now that was gone, and in its place was supposed to be Arthur. It was his job to stand on the balcony in the courtyard and bring hope to his people, to keep them safe and ensure that Camelot was given all the glory it deserved. It was his job to be more than just a man trying his best; he was a king who had to try harder than his best to keep so many others safe and secure. 

He needed this time to mourn his father, his almost-sister, his dear friend. He needed the time to shed his tears and hold his boyfriend and block out the rest of the world. More than anything, he realized, he needed to be with Merlin to keep himself from isolating himself. He knew what he wanted to do was be alone with the body, but that was actually the last thing he needed to do. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said softly. “We shouldn't just stay around the bodies.” 

Merlin nodded, finally standing up. “We're going to need to prepare the funerals. And we need to find a new physician… I guess I'll be moving out of here?” Merlin said it sadly. This place was his home, but he didn't want to live there without Gaius. He didn’t want to live with some stranger, replacing all of Gaius’s work with his own, clearing out the shelves. He couldn’t stand to think about this place without Gaius's organized messiness and way of living. 

“The undertaker will come deal with the bodies soon,” he told Merlin, standing as well. He took his hand and laced their fingers, slowly guiding him away from the bed. “You can stay with me. Let's get your stuff and go to my room.”

It was late and he was so, so tired. When he woke up, he would have to address the matter of the dead king and physician vacancy, which would be an issue since Gaius technically hadn't had an apprentice. Merlin had been his official one, and normally would have taken up the role, but he wasn't a physician. He was a sorcerer. 

He didn't want to deal with all this. He wanted to lay down in his bed with Merlin in his arms, wanted to keep him close and never move from the position again. He went back to Merlin’s room, grabbing his things for him, which were already packed up, and looked at the man again. “Let's go.”


	14. Chapter 14

Merlin had held Arthur's hand through the funerals, just as Arthur had held his. They went by agonizingly slowly, but Merlin soon found himself back in the throne room, along with all the other servants and members of the court. He was in the corner that he usually stood in with Gaius during special events, but today was different. It was Arthur’s coronation.

Arthur thought he would be nervous at his coronation, but then, he had always thought that Uther would be there for it, too. As he stepped through the doors with his subjects waiting inside, he realized that instead he was filled with his sense of duty, his love of Camelot. This wasn’t for him, honestly—he was king and he knew that. This was for his people, who needed to see the strength and care their new leader would provide them. So rather than overthinking it, he walked forward with confidence, not looking left or right as the people around him began to bow to him. 

He knelt when he was before the throne, Geoffrey of Monmouth beside him with the crown that was to be his. He looked at the seat, his seat, feeling the presence of everyone behind him but only focusing on this, this moment. It wasn’t easy, seeing as two nights ago he had spent time paying respect to his father’s body alone. And once that thought was in his head, it was hard to push away the memories of crying and speaking to his father as if he could still hear him, as there were any way he would be saying those things if he actually was there. 

Now, past the funerals and past officially making the girl he had grown up with an enemy of Camelot, it was time to step into a new era, a new age.  _ His _ , and hopefully, Merlin’s too. 

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of Camelot according to their respective laws and customs?” Geoffrey asked, a formality he knew wouldn’t be cut short even in the slightest. Geoffrey was a man of tradition, of keeping things routine and exact, and Arthur would normally feel impatient as he listened to him. But now he was fine to listen to the man and his steady, strong voice throughout the room all day. 

“I solemnly swear so to do,” he said, just as loud as he needed to, and completely serious. 

“Will you, to your power, cause law and justice in mercy to be executed in all your judgments?” 

“I will.” 

The crown was lowered onto his head as the ceremony was concluded: “Then by the sacred law vested in me, I crown you, Arthur, King of Camelot.” As Geoffrey finished speaking, Arthur stood and spun around to face the people lined up in the throne room. 

He caught Merlin’s eye and though his face remained expressionless, professional, he hoped Merlin could find some emotion in there somewhere, some love and feeling. They began to chant, “Long live the king!” and Arthur watched his knights, particularly the ones he was closest to, as they called out the words, some of them smiling. 

These people were his responsibility now. He felt too young to have a kingdom resting on his shoulders, not yet twenty although he nearly was. He had thought that the crown wouldn’t be placed on his head until he was at least twenty-two, if not nearing something like twenty-five. His father was a stubborn and decent king; there would be no reason other than death to take him off the throne until he was older. But it had happened, and here Arthur was, feeling a wave of love for his people stirring in his chest. 

He bowed his head briefly in thanks, the crown upon his head feeling much heavier than the crown he had worn as prince did. It was large and a little showy, though not as decorative as his father’s had been. He felt it represented him well, and he wouldn’t mind wearing it tonight at the first feast of his reign. 

Merlin was applauding louder than any of the others, and he watched Arthur with all of the love in his eyes that he had hidden since he arrived in Camelot. The crown looked perfect on Arthur's head, like it was made specifically for him by the gods. Its gold almost blended in with his slick blond hair, resting over his forehead and casting a shadow over his sharp jawline. Merlin cheered along until his throat was sore.  _ Long live the king! Long live the king! _

He could easily see the pride and compassion that Arthur was hiding behind his plain, kingly face. Love for his people and his kingdom. It was  _ all  _ his now. Arthur was still so young, but Merlin had no doubt that he would be the best king that Camelot had ever seen. That  _ Albion  _ had ever seen. 

The cheering finally dissolved and the knights made their way up to the new king to congratulate him and pat him on the back. All of the other servants ran off to prepare for the feast, but Merlin stood behind the knights, waiting for his turn to see Arthur. 

Arthur thanked all the knights and lords as they congratulated him. He tried to spend more time with the ones he knew well, but he rushed along. He wanted to see Merlin, and he knew he would wait until the end. He patted Leon on the back finally and said, “Thank you,” before stepping past all of them and going to Merlin. 

He unashamedly took Merlin’s hand. As long as Merlin was comfortable, he didn't care who saw and didn't like him holding his hand. Arthur wanted to marry the man one day; people would have to get used to it. 

“I'm glad you're here,” he told him, the corners of his lips pulling up slightly. 

Merlin grinned back at him, throwing his arms around Arthur's neck. “How could I miss it?” he chuckled. He rested his chin on Arthur's shoulder, which felt thicker than usual with his chainmail and cloak. “I'm so proud of you.”

Arthur wrapped his arms around him, keeping him close as he hugged him. “Thank you,” he said quietly, turning his head to kiss Merlin’s hair. He pulled away reluctantly after a moment. “I think you should sit next to me at the feast tonight instead of serving me.” 

Merlin stared at him, oddly for a moment before shaking his head. “That's not appropriate in public—I'm still just a servant and you're the  _ king _ .” Even as he was rejecting Arthur's offer, Merlin felt proud to call him his king.  _ His Arthur, _ a king.

“I don't care,” Arthur told him, taking his hand and beginning to head out of the throne room. He smiled graciously at the people in the room as he pulled Merlin away. “I want you to be at my side.” He looked over at Merlin, feeling his heart swell with affection. 

Merlin sighed, smiling back at Arthur lovingly. He allowed him to lead him to the dining hall, where he looked over all of the guests that were beginning to take their seats, and the servants, who he  _ should  _ be joining, gathering around with pitchers of wine. “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course I am,” he said. He sat at the head of his table, motioning for Merlin to sit in the place that used to be his when he was prince. He was taking the king’s place, and it only felt right to have Merlin beside him. He just wished he had had the foresight to have Merlin dress a little nicer than he was. 

Merlin hesitantly sat in the chair next to Arthur, not oblivious to the confused stares that it earned him. He swallowed, looking at the table. 

Arthur took his hand under the table and laced their fingers. People would continue herding in for another five minutes or so, so he knew he had time to talk to Merlin before he would be expected to give his speech.

“I’m going to lift the magic ban soon,” he told him, the subject being the first thing he thought of and the first thing he wanted to do as king. It was his duty to make Camelot a fairer, safer land, and unbanning magic would be a large step toward just that. “And I’m going to honor you for all you’ve done, somehow.” He smiled at him, unsure how to convey just how much he cared for him, just how much he loved and appreciated him for all the things he was and all the things he did. “Though I haven’t figured how to do that yet exactly, I’m sure you’ll love it.” 

Merlin’s head shot back up as he looked at Arthur. “You're serious?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you sure you want to? It's a big decision.” Merlin squeezed Arthur's hand. All he had wanted his entire life was to not have to hide anymore, and since he came to Camelot he had slowly lost all hope that that day would ever come. But here was Arthur, changing everything for him. 

“I'm sure,” he said, smiling back at him. He looked around the room, feeling so much love in his heart—more love in his heart than he thought there would be anytime soon, after all the loss they had suffered. He still ached with it but things felt hopeful, felt  _ right  _ with Merlin at his side. “I feel more sure about it than I do about a lot of things.” 

Merlin grinned, leaning into him as the remainder of the guests filled the seats around the table. The knights were closest to them, and Merlin still felt out of place sitting at the head of the table next to the _ king. _ He let go of Arthur's hand and awkwardly straightened himself. Talk about magic could wait, today was Arthur’s day.

Arthur soon stood to give his speech and looked over the knights and advisors invited to his coronation feast. “It is an honor to stand before you as king,” he said once everyone had quieted down. “It has been hard, with the loss of a king so long on the throne, but I'm excited to lead us into a new age of Camelot, an age where we may prosper in perhaps unexpected ways.” He hadn't wanted to say anything about Uther being a great king, afraid the truth spell would make him blurt out something inappropriate. 

Merlin watched him quietly, but proud. Though Arthur seemed a little nervous, he looked like he belonged there. He was born to be king, he was born to stand here and talk to these people.  _ His  _ people. Merlin smiled lightly as Arthur continued.

“I hope to rectify many wrongs that have been done in the past,” he went on, “and I hope that in doing so, we can ensure this kingdom is a safe one. All of you are members of my court or my army, and I hope you know that I value all your opinions equally. Now, before I begin to ramble, let’s eat.” He sat down again and looked over at Merlin. 

Merlin couldn’t help but take Arthur's hand again, still smiling. He was just so  _ proud _ of Arthur. He was such a good person, and even under a truth spell he was a good leader. Not manipulative like Uther had been.

More servants began to spill in, carrying trays of food. The delicacies were even finer than they usually were—the kingdom didn’t get a new king every week. Merlin looked down as a plate was set in front of him. It smelt delicious, but it almost felt wrong. He had never been allowed to indulge in the foods that the nobles did. He politely thanked the servant before she scurried off.

Arthur squeezed his hand while the food was being brought out to the table. Once the food was before them, he let go of his hand and focused on the meal before him. “Get used to this,” he told Merlin with a smile after a drink of the wine—it was damn good wine tonight. “One way or another, I think you’ll be sitting at this end of the table far more often.” 

He left it at that. Merlin, of course, knew that Arthur wanted to marry him, but he was in no rush to pressure him into agreeing—especially since he hadn’t proposed yet. However, whether he was also the king-consort or not, Arthur was determined to make him into the court sorcerer. He wasn’t sure what a court sorcerer would actually do, but like everything else that needed overlooking, there needed to be someone in his court who was very experienced with sorcery. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha yeah this wasn't late at all

It had been weeks since Arthur's coronation and the people really seemed to like Arthur as a king, as Merlin always knew they would. Of course, there needed to be a period for everyone to adjust before changes were made, and that period was over, and the ban on magic was being lifted. 

Arthur had spent all morning and all afternoon in council talking to everyone about how the ban would be lifted. It had to be done in a way that wouldn’t upset those still against magic. He knew that there would be many who would be violently against it still, and that easing into it would be their best chance of ensuring the safety of the sorcerers now allowed in his kingdom. This was a good thing, of course, and he was glad for it. But it was also exhausting, listening to the many counselors who were for or against it arguing and trying to find a good middle ground—while also trying to discreetly lead them toward the path safest for Merlin. 

Now that council was out, his mind was set on spending some time with his boyfriend. He went back to his chambers. As soon as he entered, he looked for Merlin, shedding his cape and laying it across his chair at the table. 

“I’m tired,” he said, looking up at him and going over to the bed. 

Merlin frowned at him, making his way to Arthur's closet to get him some bedclothes. “Did you have a rough day?” Merlin asked. He grabbed the bedclothes and set them at the foot of Arthur's bed before looking up at the king. 

Arthur took off his clothes, getting down into his underwear and then pulling on his bedclothes. When he was dressed again, he went to Merlin and wrapped his arms around him. “A little,” he told him, leaning forward to kiss him briefly. “But I think it may improve a bit now that I can see you.” He tugged him over to the bed and sat down, ready to curl up with him and sleep. 

Once they were laying down and comfortable, Arthur met his eyes and smiled fondly. “How was your day? I feel like I haven’t seen you hardly at all this week,” he said.

Merlin smiled faintly. “I've missed you. I haven't had much work from you… or Gaius. So I've just—been here.” He sighed, leaning against Arthur's chest. He could hear his steady heartbeat, and Arthur’s strong arms wrapped firmly around him. 

Arthur kissed the top of his head. “I’m sorry, Merlin.” He rubbed his back, wishing there was something he could do to erase the pain he knew Merlin still felt over his old mentor. He wished he had been able to save him for so many reasons, and one of them was to spare his boyfriend from all of this. “Do you want to talk? Maybe we should talk.” He was tired, but they were still under the truth spell. He was eager to get rid of it and put this past them. 

“No,” Merlin muttered against Arthur's chest. “I'm alright.” The more Merlin talked about Gaius, the more he missed him, so he decided it was best to just keep it inside. “Well, actually, I'm very upset, but that's obvious—have you found a way to break this truth spell yet? Did Morgana tell you before she left?” Merlin pushed away from Arthur just enough to look into his face.

“Oh yeah,” he said, remembering suddenly the thing that had slipped his mind in all of the chaos that had followed the deaths on that day. “Morgana said that revealing what one lies to themselves about the most will rid them of the spell.” He looked down at him, cupping his cheek lightly. “So I guess we need to figure out what we lie to ourselves about the most.” 

Merlin considered this for a second, frowning. “How are we supposed to know what that is?” Just thinking about it, Merlin had admitted a lot recently, but it had only been things that he had admitted to himself years ago. What did he lie to  _ himself _ about? Was there really anything like that?

“I guess we just have to think,” Arthur said, not looking forward to spending time looking deep into the repressed parts of him. “But we can do it together.” He didn't know what he would find when he really started examining himself, and he was pretty sure whatever it was, it would help to have Merlin at his side. 

Merlin leaned back against Arthur, closing his eyes. Too much had happened lately for Merlin to want to deal with anything. He just wanted to sleep, right here in Arthur's arms. “We should just worry about all of that tomorrow. Tonight let's just focus on us,” he whispered.

Arthur held him close and rubbed his back. “That's okay with me,” he said softly. He smiled at him and looked into his eyes, loving how sweet and blue they were. “How would you like to be court sorcerer, by the way?” 

He hoped Merlin would be excited for it. He hadn't been able to hold his intentions in for any longer, wanting to see his eyes light up and a smile stretch across his face. 

Merlin frowned, but didn’t move away from Arthur. “But I'm your servant,” he said, confused. “And I'm happy with that.” Sure, Arthur seemed fond of giving Merlin a hard time, but Merlin felt like his place was as a servant, as it always had been.

“You’re so much more than a servant.” Arthur watched him for a moment, concerned that this wouldn’t be what he wanted. Not only did he want to make Merlin court sorcerer for personal reasons, but for the obvious political reasons as well. There was no better person for the position, no one more dedicated to the kingdom and no one a stronger protector. “Your magic is greater than anything I’ve ever seen before—not that I’ve seen much—but your heart is also kinder than anyone else’s I’ve ever met too.” 

Merlin considered this before sighing. “If you think that it's a good idea, then I trust you. I live to serve you.” Merlin listened to Arthur's heart beating in the otherwise silent room before closing his eyes again. “We can talk about all of this in the morning, alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, kissing the top of his head. He let his eyes slide shut, although he was sure he wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon. He felt his consciousness drifting away after only a few moments, however, and realized that although he hadn’t even had time for training that day, he was truly exhausted. 

 

…

 

When Merlin finally woke, the bed next to him was empty. He wiped the sleep from his eyes before sitting up. Arthur was on the opposite side of the room, attempting to dress himself. Merlin chuckled when Arthur put his arm through the head hole, and he stood up to go help him. “Let me…” he said, reaching for the shirt.

Arthur looked at him helplessly as he came over and nodded, pulling the shirt off of himself and handing it to Merlin. “Thank you,” he said, running a hand through his messy bedhead hair. “Do you know where my boots are? I didn’t take them off where I usually do. And I don’t know where I put my comb.” 

“Your boots are by the bed and your comb is on the dresser,” Merlin said as he slid the shirt over Arthur’s head. He moved around him to straighten it out before he stood up tall again, grabbing the comb off of the dresser and holding it up for Arthur to see. “This one?”

“Yes, thanks,” Arthur said. He took the comb and went to his mirror to comb out the messiness. 

It felt a little weird, to thank Merlin for doing his job, but he thought it would be a good idea to make a habit of showing his appreciation. After all, Merlin wasn’t going to be his servant forever, and when that was over it wouldn’t be his job to tell Arthur where his comb and boots were. It wouldn’t be part of his duties to help dress him and make sure he was awake on time, to dress him in his chainmail before training and in his cape and crown before special events. The thought of Merlin ascending to his deserved role as court sorcerer, of him being  _ Lord Merlin _ or something like that—it was a good thought, but an unusual one. 

“What do you think of having a servant of your own when you’re court sorcerer?” he asked curiously, turning back around from his mirror. He pointedly tried to remember that he left his comb there. 

If Merlin was honest, the idea kind of freaked him out.  _ He _ was a servant. He didn’t _ have  _ servants. Of course, Merlin smiled anyway. “It'd be a relief, not having to pick up after you all the time,” he said. “But I don’t really mind. I love being your servant. And having my own servant would definitely take some getting used to.” He walked over to the side of Arthur's bed and grabbed his boots.

Arthur came over to the side of the bed as well and sat down. “I don’t want to force you to do anything,” he assured him. “I just know that you would be far more helpful and would be able to show far more of your potential as court sorcerer than as my servant. And you would still be at my side.” 

He was used to people appeasing to him whether they wanted to or not—was used to people’s “Yes, sire”s to be laced with some measure of exasperation when they didn’t agree with him, or for servants to give him deferential nods in order to hide the angry looks in their eyes. He knew there was only so much he could do. No matter how inviting and non-threatening he tried to seem around regular people, they would always bow to him and put aside their opinions for his. He thought some of this had to do with the fear his father likely instilled in them and hoped to rectify this. But as it was, he was only truly worried about certain people listening to him wholeheartedly and not speaking up when he was wrong, or when they didn’t want what he did. People like his closest knights, or like Guinevere, back when they were together. He was never concerned about Merlin, though, for part of the reason he loved the man stemmed from his tendency to speak up  _ constantly _ when Arthur needed stood up to. But now, suddenly, he was afraid that Merlin would agree to this court sorcerer position only because Arthur wanted him to. 

Merlin put his hand on Arthur's shoulder, sitting down next to him. “Then I'll do it. As long as I'm still at your side,” he said, taking in a breath. He really didn't mind the change of his position. He was really just worried about the possible changes in his relationship with Arthur. He chewed on his bottom lip before sliding off the bed and onto his knees, grabbing Arthur's boots. “You need to get ready for the council meeting.”

Arthur nodded in agreement and watched as Merlin went about his duties. Things felt so different now after all that had happened. He felt stronger and wiser from having experienced the death of his father, from having nearly lost his best friend, boyfriend. There was so much he had learned from this. Of course, he wished he had his father and Merlin had Gaius back, but he could appreciate the things they'd learned together. He could appreciate all that they'd become. 

“You know you'll always be at my side, right? As long as you want to be,” he said softly. 

“I want to  _ always  _ be,” Merlin said back, faintly. He slid the boots carefully onto Arthur's feet before standing back up and wiping the dust from his knees. He looked at Arthur, outstretching a hand for him to take. “Come on.”

He took the hand and began to walk out of the door. There was so much going on that he probably wasn’t prepared for, but he felt equipped enough with Merlin at his side. So he strode forward toward the council chambers with the confidence of a king, head held high. He marched into the room and sat at his seat, ready to take whatever was thrown at him.

Merlin quietly took his place in the corner of the room, politely waiting for the meeting to start. It was his job to answer to Arthur or the knights, not to be involved. Though he was curious to hear what Arthur had to say, this was the first meeting that Arthur would be leading as the king, and Merlin felt proud of him—his boyfriend.

Arthur waited for everyone to be seated before standing at the head of the table. While everyone quieted down, he considered how much he wanted a round table instead of sitting at the head of this one. 

“I know we have been discussing this, but I think it's time I officially announce the repeal of the ban on magic,” Arthur said, letting his voice carry throughout the room as he watched the faces of his councilors. “And with this comes the need for new laws to be put in place, and the need for an expert on the subject. This is why I have decided to name a court sorcerer.” 

A few gasps could be heard from unidentified council members, and the room filled with whispers immediately. Merlin’s stomach fell. The people would never accept him as a court  _ sorcerer _ —of course they wouldn't. He met Arthur's eyes, chewing on his lip.  _ Please don't say his name. Please, Arthur. _

“I have decided to choose my close friend, someone whom I know will be a valuable member to the court. I guarantee he will prove to be a loyal and worthy advisor, and I know he is quite skilled.” Arthur caught Merlin’s gaze. “Merlin.” 

Merlin swallowed as all of the heads in the room turned to him. The faces were confused, curious, but not hateful. In the middle of all of them was Arthur, staring at him in an inviting way. Merlin stepped forward, trying to look confident. If he really was about to become a main defender of Camelot, the court would need to see it in him.

“I expect to see no opposition against Merlin,” Arthur said, pushing back the smile he wanted to give Merlin in favor of staying professional. “Now that that's out of the way, let’s talk about these laws.” He sat down and looked around at his councilors, ready to get the real council underway. “Merlin, you should come sit down.” He glanced back at him again, knowing that that would make things less weird, with him being a member of the council now. 

Merlin nodded, running over to sit down in the open chair right next to Arthur. All of the eyes were still on him, but he tried to ignore them and stay quiet through the rest of the council meeting. Once he was actually sat down, he didn’t feel as awkward. He was a part of this council, he belonged there and he mattered. 

Arthur smiled over at him very slightly and then looked at the rest of his councilors. “Right. Let's begin,” he said. 

Merlin paid close attention for the entire council meeting, careful not to tune out during the part where they talked about rationing food and money, and then about the possibility of a slave trader crossing the border. Arthur appeared confident, his opinions were strong but he never hesitated to ask for advice from his advisors. 

Afterward, Arthur dismissed the members of the council and stood to go have something to eat before training. He spoke idly to a couple lords as everyone drifted out of the chambers, and once everyone had left, he turned his gaze on Merlin. 

“I'm sorry I put you on the spot like that,” he told him. He reached out and took his hand. “You'll be a good councilor though, and the rest need to see that. Now let's go get something to eat.” 

Merlin smiled back at him, squeezing his hand. “Eat what? I'm starving,” he said. He started to head out of the council chambers as well, his hand still in Arthur's.

“Seeing as I don’t have another servant lined up just yet, I’ll need you to get our lunches still, if that’s all right,” he said, looking over at him. “So I suppose whatever you want.” He smiled, entwining their fingers. 

Merlin nodded as they stepped out of a council chambers. He pulled Arthur closer to him as they walked, an unexplainable need to protect him suddenly sweeping over him. He always felt the need to protect Arthur, of course, but he could feel his senses tingling all of the sudden, like something really bad would happen out of the blue. He quickly glanced behind them, but he didn't see anything. If something or someone intended to harm Arthur, he would be ready. That was his job, maybe not as a servant or even court sorcerer, but as a friend—a boyfriend. Merlin looked back at Arthur. “Let's go to your chambers first,” he said. He turned to guide Arthur up the nearest stairwell.

“If you insist,” Arthur said, smiling at him a little bit. He felt better than he had since his father died—probably since a while before that, too. Being able to be so open about how much he loved Merlin made him feel so much better than before. He nudged him a little bit. “I think we should go for a picnic soon.” 

Merlin looked at him and smiled, still wary of the possible danger around them. “A picnic? What for?” A moving shadow behind them caught his eye. He held onto Arthur tighter, glancing over his shoulder again. There was nothing. Merlin swallowed, returning his attention to Arthur. “In the woods?”

“No, all the way in the mountains for the hell of it,” he told him sarcastically, smiling slightly although he noticed that Merlin was tensing up. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he started down the hallway, toward his room. “What is it?” 

Merlin shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, though he pushed away from Arthur, gently of course, to look behind them again. This time, he finally saw her—one of the serving girls that had been serving during the council meeting, only now, she had a knife in her hand and she was suddenly charging towards Arthur. 

Merlin reacted quickly, pushing Arthur out of her way before the girl could land a blow with her blade. Merlin’s eyes glowed a bright gold as he threw the girl backwards as hard as he possibly could. She fell against the wall, not unconscious, but gasping for the air that had been knocked out of her. Pieces of light red hair fell into her eyes. She looked up at Merlin as he stepped towards her. “Explain yourself!” he shouted.

Arthur recovered from his shock and looked from the girl to Merlin. It had all happened too quickly for him to understand what had happened. “Merlin, what the hell is going on?” he said, stepping toward the girl. He saw the knife that had fallen from her hand but was still close enough for her to grab it. He frowned and unsheathed his sword. “What is the meaning of this?” 

The girl scrambled to her feet, staring Arthur down with confidence. “I tried to help this kingdom, but I failed. Hopefully someone else will be more successful,” she spat. Merlin stepped towards her, cautiously. “You will never be as good of a king as your father,” the girl continued, coldly. “Allowing magic into Camelot? Being intimate with— with a  _ serving boy _ ?” The girl gestured to Merlin. “Execute me, Arthur Pendragon, but this land will burn with you as king.” She held both of her wrists out for Arthur to arrest her.

“How dare you speak to him that way?” Merlin folded his arms. “He is the king-” he turned around, looking down the hall. “Guards!” he shouted. He called again after a moment, and Sir Leon came running around the corner.

Arthur brushed off her comments and turned to look at Leon, knowing she could be dealt with by the guards. “Leon,” he said, thinking he seemed more tense than usual. “What is it? Is something wrong?” He had thought he was doing things right finally by lifting the ban and raising Merlin’s status, but it seemed he had done something wrong again. 

“News somehow spread to the inner city that you were lifting the ban on magic,” Leon said, his face hard. “People are rioting.” Just as he said this, the warning bells began to sound.

Merlin looked from Leon, to Arthur, to the girl. It had to be one of the servants that spread the news before they were ready. Merlin frowned; they would be needing a whole new staff.

“Shit,” Arthur breathed out, before composing himself and transforming from Arthur to Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot. He looked at Merlin. “I need my chainmail on.” He looked up at Leon. “Gather some people and see if it’s containable after you’ve ensured this traitor has been dealt with.” 

He started to march toward his chambers, putting himself into a pre-battle mindset. He hoped that nothing would come of this little outburst, that the most that would happen would be the attempt on his life. Surely a group of servants and some enraged lower town people couldn’t do much, especially if they were shut down. Could they? Or were too many people against his reign? Did people have so little faith in him as a king?

He drew himself away from these thoughts. He couldn’t do that to himself when he was readying himself to go before rioters. He pushed into his chambers, feeling a brief reprieve from any outside gaze within the safety of his room. Letting out a breath but not allowing himself to leave his professional attitude, he shed his jacket and scabbard. 

His first battle as king was about to begin. 


	16. Chapter 16

Arthur’s hand instinctively danced over the pommel of his sword as he walked into the lower town. The closer he got, the more he could hear the chaos happening. When he stepped before the angry group of rioters marching in the direction of the castle, his presence seemed to stop them in their tracks. 

Many of them were afraid, many defiant. He stood tall, letting his hand drop away from his sword. He had Leon and Pellinore behind him, as well as Merlin. He was confident in his safety, although his surety in how right he was was less strong. 

“Surrender your cause now and no harm will come to you,” Arthur called to the group, wanting as little violence as possible. If no blood had to be shed, none would be. “I know you must be frustrated about these changes that are taking place, but you must believe me when I say they are what is right for Camelot. I cannot allow persecution in my kingdom, though nor can I allow people to act without supervision and laws. New laws will be set in place for magic users. I will ensure the safety of my people.” 

The rioters all stared at him—there couldn’t have been more than twenty, but even a group that size could cause damage if they were angry enough. All throughout the courtyard things had been destroyed. Barrels spilt down the street, goods from the markets smashed. They were destroying their own food; their own means of survival, because they were angry about magic.

Merlin swallowed. This was his fault. If he had just remained a servant and not told Arthur about his magic, the people would be fine. He stepped forward, past Arthur, his shoulders back and his head high in staged confidence. He looked at the angry citizens, ready to address them. 

“You are only hurting yourselves,” Merlin started, his voice strong, “and the innocent people around you. If you destroy what little food you have now, you won't be able to eat until harvest time comes back around. It is understandable that you are upset; you have been taught that magic is evil and that it will destroy this land. That is not the case. There is no evil in magic, only in men.” Merlin took in a breath. It seemed that he had caught their attention, so he continued. “And I am here to show you that. With magic, we can better protect this kingdom from its enemies. I will ensure that it is only wielded for good, and your families will all be safe. Even safer than they were before, I can promise you that.” Merlin looked to Arthur, searching for his approval. “I hope we can all walk into this to era together.”

The people seemed to consider this, the defiance on their faces gone, but they still seemed unsure. That was to be expected, of course, but at least they weren’t breaking things anymore. Merlin gestured for Arthur to finish.

Arthur was looking over at Merlin with a hint of a smile on his face, staying professional but still managing to convey his love for the man. 

“I will ensure the kingdom is informed when the new laws on magic are in place,” he said, voice kingly as ever. “I hope you can accept magic and can accept my court sorcerer. I promise only good things will come from this.” 

He turned away from them confidently and looked at Merlin again, motioning for Leon and Pellinore to follow him back toward the castle. He didn't know what would happen, only that he had his knights and his Merlin, and he would have his subjects’ trust and care eventually too. He knew he would do anything for them, and hopefully they would see how much he cared about his role as their protector. 

As soon as Arthur's back was turned, a dagger flew through the air. It had come from one of the civilians—one with dark hair and blue eyes that were filled with hate—and was headed for Arthur’s back. Merlin saw it the moment it flew from the man's hand, and he used magic to fling it from its course.

Merlin marched towards the group, people stepping back in fear of the dark look suddenly in Merlin’s eyes. He grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt, pulling him up so that their noses almost touched and their eyes met. “How  _ dare _ you make an attempt on Arthur's life?” Merlin asked, coldly. He dropped the man, gesturing for either Leon or Pellinore to arrest him. He looked back to the other people. “We are here to protect you, but if you  _ ever _ try to hurt the king, I will not be so kind.”

Merlin’s heart was beating so hard that he could feel it in his chest, but he didn't let it show. It was still his job to protect Arthur, but it was also his job to protect Arthur's people. 

Leon grabbed the traitor, pulling his hands behind his back to restrain him. “I will take him to the dungeons,” Leon said, loud enough for the people to hear him. “The king can decide his fate.”

Arthur was again shocked to turn and find Merlin saving his life in front of a crowd of people. It made him think of how many times before Merlin had done this from the sidelines, hidden from his sight. He looked at the traitor without hate, his gaze instead full of confusion. He didn't know how to let them see he cared except to just continue to protect them, but they seemed to not want his protection. 

“I will discuss his punishment later with my council,” he said. He warily turned again, worried for his knights and Merlin more than before. He had been sure there would be no violence. He had expected opposition but he didn't know they were angry enough to attack him again. “Thank you, Merlin.” 

Merlin swallowed before nodding, uncomfortable, and following Arthur. He wasn’t a violent person, but he had wanted to hurt that man just then. Come to think of it, he wanted to kill  _ everyone _ who attempted to harm Arthur. They were bad people, yes, but Merlin didn't want to be as bad as them. They were protecting what they believed in, as he was, but he was nothing like them, was he? How much would he really do for Arthur?

He followed the king and knights inside of the castle as the group dissolved and returned to their homes. It looked like they had succeeded in stopping the riots, but Leon was still walking with the restrained traitor, and Merlin couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate their victory.

Once they were back in the castle, Arthur took Merlin’s hand lightly. “Merlin, you were getting rather intense,” he said softly, not wanting to see Merlin so angry or upset. Both of them needed time to nap or something. They needed that picnic he had mentioned, some time alone together—away from the stress of running a kingdom. “I think we need a break. Let's go rest in my chambers now.” 

Merlin nodded in agreement, he really didn't feel tired, but he did feel like cuddling with Arthur. “You could have died,” Merlin whispered, sadly. “Of course I was intense.”

He nodded. “I suppose I would get like that with anyone who wanted to hurt you too,” he said, reaching down and taking his hand. “I won't let anything happen to you though.” He led him to his chambers, the bed looking very inviting. 

When they got in the room and the door had closed, Merlin kissed Arthur gently, wrapping his arms around his neck. If their problems outside of this room were going to come back as soon as they left, he wanted to make as much as he could out of the time he got here, with Arthur. He held him closer, kissing him more deeply. 

After a minute, he pulled away just enough to look at Arthur. “Do you still want to have that picnic?” Merlin asked, quietly.

“Of course,” he told him softly, a smile growing on his face despite what had just happened. His mind went back to its image of the two of them on a blanket, drinking wine and sharing kisses occasionally as they laid curled up together for the entire afternoon. He felt his heart swell and his chest go warm with what he knew was his love for Merlin, which seemed to strengthen every day. “Anytime you want, we can go.” 

“Let's go tomorrow afternoon,” Merlin said. “Is that alright with you?” He smiled at Arthur, leaning back in to rest his head on his shoulder.

Arthur rubbed his back gently, feeling already much better just from a little time with Merlin. “Of course,” he said again, kissing his head. “I’ll make sure Leon will be aware of my absence.” 

“Mmmhhmm,” Merlin mumbled against Arthur's shoulder. He couldn’t wait for the picnic with Arthur, but that was tomorrow. Right now, he was only able to steal a moment before they both had to go back to their duties.

Arthur pulled away from him just enough to see his face. “I love you,” he said, feeling unable to keep it in. Those were the truest words within him, a fact that would never change for him, and the truth spell begged for him to say it aloud. If the spell otherwise only caused pain and chaos, at least it brought Arthur to realize he wasn’t any less of a man because he loved Merlin; he was better for it, in fact. He pulled Merlin close to him again, vowing never to let go of the feeling of warmth inside him. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha sorryish for the long wait

Arthur had everything planned out for their picnic perfectly. He had Sir Pellinore lead training and postponed council. That was needed anyway; they had been having council daily for far too long for his liking, or for anyone else’s. He ensured the cooks made them the perfect meal, grabbed the softest blanket for Merlin to pack, as well as good pillows for them to lay on. He had some of his finest wine sent along with them, and he made sure he looked nice. It was Merlin and Arthur’s first date, technically, and if it didn’t go amazingly, he would— Well, he would be disappointed, honestly. 

After everything was prepared, Arthur sent another servant off to prepare their two horses, having him take their bags off with him. He turned to Merlin with a wide smile on his face and took his hands. “I can’t wait to be alone with you,” he said, “properly alone.” 

Even in the safety of his chambers, someone could burst in with urgent news at any moment. When they were off in the woods, the rest of the world paused, narrowed down to just the two of them, and let them relax in peace. 

“I'm a little scared, if I'm honest,” Merlin joked. “There will be no one around to hear me scream—I'm joking, of course. I don't actually think you'd ever hurt me.” A smile crossed his face as he reached their horses. 

The servant had just finished strapping the bags onto their horses, and he was now turning towards Merlin and Arthur. “Thank you,” Merlin said, politely. The serving boy gave Merlin a short nod. 

“Will there be anything else, my lord?” he looked to Arthur, “Sire?” 

Merlin couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as he shook his head. “No, that will be all,” he said, dismissively. The serving boy scurried away and Merlin looked to Arthur, still grinning. “He just called me  _ my lord. _ Am I that important now?” Merlin laughed.

“Yes, you're very important.” Arthur smiled and kissed his cheek, glad that some people were receiving Merlin’s rise in position so well. He felt a little weird about being able to publicly show his love of Merlin, but he brushed it aside. He knew he would get used to it. 

Arthur mounted his horse and looked over to Merlin, thinking of him in noblemen clothing. The thought of it was even too fancy for him, but he was fairly sure he would be adorable like that anyway. Once Merlin had climbed his horse as well, he began to ride out, eager to be away from the eyes of his people. 

Merlin followed after him, not sure where Arthur was leading him, but not questioning him. Sunlight peaked through the treetops, lighting the trail in front of them. There were no hoofprints or human footprints in the dirt, and the trail was becoming less and less distinguishable from the rest of the forest floor. He assumed that meant that very few people have come through these parts, which would of course mean Merlin and Arthur were even more likely to have their privacy out here.

After a while, the horses stopped. They were right at the edge of a cliff. It was a very far drop, one that would definitely kill even the strongest of men, but the view was amazing. Merlin dismounted his horse. “Is this the place?”

Arthur nodded as he tied up the horses, bringing some of their bags over to the spot where he wanted to sit. “Can you get the ones off your horse?” he asked, knowing he didn’t really need to ask. He wanted to anyway though, wanted to make sure Merlin knew that Arthur valued him. Even if he would likely still take some advantage of Merlin from time to time, mostly jokingly, today was supposed to be perfect. He wanted Merlin to feel perfect as well. 

Merlin grabbed the bags off of his horse and came to stand at Arthur's side. Looking over the edge of the cliff, he was overwhelmed with a feeling of—well, he wasn't exactly sure  _ what _ it was. It looked so beautiful, yet frightening. He wanted to step closer to the edge and look out, over all of the mountains and valleys, and the river below them, but a small error in movement and he would fall to his death. He swallowed, resolving to take a step back and admire the view from there. “Maybe not so close to the edge,” Merlin said. “One of us could slip.”

Arthur smiled over at Merlin and nudged him. “It’d probably be you, since you’re so clumsy,” he said, setting out the blanket for the two of them. “Actually, you’d probably pull me down with you.” 

Arthur set out the food on their blanket, feeling nervous about this first date between the two of them. The need for it to run as smoothly as possible was stressing him out, but he pushed through it, pouring the glasses of wine for the two of them—something normally Merlin would do. Actually, a lot of this was what he would do as his servant, but neither of them were servants there now. Arthur felt it was only right he shared some of the burden of menial tasks. 

“So,” he said, looking up at Merlin again, “have you thought of whatever secret will break the spell for you?” 

Merlin thought for a moment before nodding. “I've gotten a few ideas, but I still don't know what it could be. The problem is that I'm keeping it a secret  _ from myself. _ ” He sighed, meeting Arthur's eyes. “How about you? Do you know what you lie to yourself about?” 

He took his goblet from Arthur once it had been poured, nodding a ‘thank you’ before sitting down next to him on the small blanket they had laid out. The sun was at its highest point of the day, casting light over the view in front of them. Merlin wanted to stay out here with Arthur until it set, until it rose again, and so on. As long as he possibly could, with nothing to worry about, and no one around but Arthur. Not only his king, but his lover. He took a sip of his wine, still waiting for Arthur's answer.

Arthur shook his head. “No,” he told him. He took a drink of his wine and looked out over the view. He was more concerned about this afternoon than he was with the spell right then, and thinking about it, he wanted to talk to Merlin before they ate. So he stood and reached a hand out to him. “I know you just sat, but let’s walk around for a bit before we eat. We have plenty of time.” 

Merlin willingly took his hand and pulled himself onto his feet. “Where do you want to go?” Merlin asked. He didn’t let go of Arthur's hand, but instead, he entwined their fingers.

“Not far,” he told him, not wanting an animal to wander by and have at their lunch. He walked a little closer to the edge, making sure Merlin wasn’t on the side closest to it. As he looked out over the edge, he thought he caught a glimpse of something stunningly white down below. All thoughts of conversation disappeared for a moment. “Hang on.”

Arthur dropped Merlin’s hand and ventured a little closer, peering down below. “Merlin, I think there’s a unicorn down there.” He took another tentative step closer, relying on his skilled footwork from years of training to not let him fall. He remembered the last time he saw a unicorn, and he felt like he shouldn’t have wanted to be closer to it, but he felt drawn to it anyway. 

It most certainly  _ wasn’t  _ because he was a virgin. Because he wasn’t. No, not at all. 

Maybe he was leaning toward it more than he knew, but all of the sudden his foot was no longer on sudden ground. He was weightless, floating,  _ plummeting _ —

Merlin shot to Arthur's side before he even knew what he was doing. He used a quick spell to slow Arthur down as he grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him backwards to safety. Merlin had to use all of the strength that he possessed in order to pull Arthur, but in doing so he pulled himself forward. 

As Arthur fell backwards onto the safe ground behind him, Merlin swung forward and just barely over the edge. As soon as he realized that his feet were no longer on the ground, he began flailing his arms wildly. He was searching for  _ something  _ to grab onto. His hand found a tree root before he even had a chance to fall very far, but he was still hanging over the side of the cliff, too far to pull himself back up.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, hurrying over and leaning down to grab Merlin’s hand. His heart was beating out of his chest and he swore he'd never bring Merlin close to a cliff ever again. This was not all the perfect afternoon he had planned out for them. “Grab my hand, you idiot!”

Merlin struggled, but he managed to grab onto Arthur's hand, combining their strength to pull himself up onto the grass. He collapsed onto the ground, lying on his stomach and taking a moment to catch his breath, shaken up from coming that close to death… and to Arthur's death. 

Arthur collapsed down next to him, shutting his eyes for a moment as he calmed down his pounding heart. If he had been a second too late… if Merlin’s grip had slipped… He turned toward him and wrapped an arm around him, tugging him closer and away from the edge of the cliff. The thought of watching Merlin as he tumbled down to the edge put a knot in his stomach. Joking about his clumsiness was one thing, but actually seeing him clinging to the edge, barely hanging on, was entirely different. He felt sick, his resolve to spend a happy day with him only strengthened after that. 

“You idiot,” he snapped, but there was no anger in his voice. If anything, it was affectionate, although it had just enough hardness to be considered stern. He couldn’t have Merlin doing anything stupid like that again, even if he was the one that originally fell. “I don’t really think you’re an idiot,” he admitted because of the spell, breathing it out in a sigh. “I was just worried. You could have died, Merlin.” 

“So could you,” Merlin breathed, shakingly. “I couldn't let that happen. I'd do anything for you, Arthur. Even die.” And it was true, Merlin would do  _ anything _ for Arthur. He would kill an army of men in cold blood to protect him, and he would even kill  _ himself _ if it kept his king safe. The thought scared Merlin, but that didn't make it any less true, and the sincerity shined through in his voice. He sunk into Arthur's arms, burying his face in his chest. To think, he almost lost him in a split second. 

One moment they were so happy, and the next moment, Arthur was almost killed. That quickly, everything changed.

Arthur held him like he was never going to let him go, and for a moment that sounded like a wonderful idea. “I love you,” he said quietly, rubbing his back gently. After a long moment, he stood up and went over to their blanket, sitting down and taking a long drink of his wine. “Let’s never go that close to a cliff again.” He smiled over at him, taking in Merlin’s very alive bright blue eyes that hadn’t fallen far enough to die. 

Merlin nodded in agreement, pushing himself off of the ground. It was obvious that any hopes for a short walk together had vanished, but Merlin was alright with that, as long as he was with Arthur. 

He sat down next to the other man on the blanket, leaning back against him. He felt Arthur's hand brush his arm, and he closed his eyes. “Don't do that again,” Merlin said after a moment of silence. “I know that you think you are indestructible, but you're not. You're just a prat.” He took Arthur's hand in his, snuggling in closer.

Arthur waited for a moment for Merlin to inevitably take back the comment. When he didn’t, he pulled away from him and looked into his eyes, like he expected it to happen any second now, just a bit delayed. “Merlin,” he said with a smile growing on his face, “unless you actually think I’m a prat, the spell was broken for you.” 

He couldn’t help but be glad of that. If Merlin’s was broken, that meant they were a step closer to breaking it for Arthur. It really wouldn’t do for two political figures to be unable to tell lies, even if Arthur did pride himself on being very honest when it came to governing his kingdom. He also missed the banter they had, which wasn’t really a possibility if every time they had to correct themselves. They made it work, but not very well. 

“ _ I do  _ actually think that you're a prat,” Merlin huffed, but he paused because… he didn’t think that—not _ really. _ He teased Arthur a lot, and they gave each other a hard time, but Merlin really looked up to Arthur. He was more than just some idiot king.

The reality of this began to sink in, and he met Arthur's eyes. Those damn, beautiful blue eyes that reminded him of— well, everything that was right with this world. He couldn’t really pin that into one specific thing, unless he was talking about Arthur. He took a breath.

“It must have been when I said I'd do anything for you. I've always known that, but I never really acknowledged  _ how much _ was included in that ‘anything.’” 

Arthur nodded, wrapping an arm back around Merlin and keeping him close. “Well, I don’t want you to die for me,” he told him. He rubbed his arm, unable to even imagine what it would be like to rule a kingdom void of Merlin. For that matter, how could he do anything in a world where Merlin was not alive, was not at his side? It was unimaginable. Merlin kept him up, kept him smiling. And he helped him make the right decisions a lot of the time. “I couldn’t do it—do  _ anything _ —without you. I’m not…” He sighed and let out a breath, unsure where he was going with that. He was pretty sure it would lead him down a less than happy path in his mind, and this was supposed to be a happy day. 

Merlin nodded, sadly but understandingly. “It is my destiny to protect you until you became king. Until you fulfill _your_ destiny. You will be the greatest king that Camelot—that _Albion_ has ever seen.” He took a breath. “I believe you will do great things.”

Arthur looked down at Merlin for a long moment, trying to believe what he was saying but unable to. He knew he needed to be confident as a king, but it was so difficult sometimes, especially when people were sick so often and so many rioted. He felt like he was doing right, but it seemed like he did that so rarely. 

“I think you overestimate me, Merlin,” he admitted after a long moment, reaching down for Merlin’s hand. He squeezed gently, looking down at their hands rather than into Merlin’s eyes. “I don’t think I’m as great of a king as you think I am. I don’t think I’m anywhere near as great of a king.” 

“Do you really believe that, Arthur?” Merlin was frowning now. Yes, Arthur was young, and he may have become king a little too quickly, but if anyone was capable of bringing about the greatness that this land was destined for, it was Arthur. He was so special, not only to Merlin, but to all of Albion. Or at least he would be in time.

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do,” he said. He let out a breath. “It’s not important.” He pulled the basket over to him, beginning to spread out their food despite the fact that he had wanted to wait to eat until a bit later. Many of his plans had been ruined for today, but he was still determined to make it a happy date. He smiled, pushing away all thoughts of his insecurities—insecurities he hadn’t even truly admitted to himself until then, not completely. 

With this, he realized that the secret he was supposed to reveal could very well be this. He decided to test it out, saying, “You’re an idiot.” He waited for a moment, a grin growing on his face once again. 

Merlin frowned, looking at Arthur with a tiny pout. “Hey, I'm only trying to help you.”

Arthur shook his head, nudging him. “Merlin, that was it. My spell’s broken too.”

Merlin took a minute for his brain to register what Arthur had said, but when it did, a smile lit up his face. “Tell me a lie.”

Arthur thought for a second for a stupid lie he could tell. “Um, I have brown eyes,” he said, because although that was a really stupid lie, it was the first he could think of. When he didn’t correct himself again, he grinned at him even wider. “Finally!” He wrapped an arm around Merlin and pulled him close, kissing his cheek. 

“So you  _ don't  _ think I'm an idiot?” Merlin chuckled. He wrapped his arm around Arthur's waist and pulled him closer. He knew they were supposed to be having a picnic, but he couldn't help it. Merlin was a cuddler, especially when he was this happy.

“No, of course not,” he said softly. He took a moment to appreciate the moment with Merlin and then let out a breath. There was no better time than this, before something else could happen to really ruin their day. “In fact, I think you’re the opposite of an idiot. I think that you’re extremely wise, and more intelligent than you let on a lot of the time.” 

He smiled at him slightly and moved so he was in front of Merlin, taking both of his hands. Although most of the time he had to have Merlin help him with his previous girlfriends, he was very romantic when he wanted to be, and he had had this day planned out, had thought of what he was going to say. 

“I think you’re handsome, and that you’re so stupidly kind to everyone you meet,” Arthur told him, his voice low, private. He knew that they were alone, but these words were just for them. This moment was just for the two of them. “I think you’re strong and… and you keep me strong, Merlin. You make me better, and you keep me safe. You’re my best friend, and the best person I could ask to go through everything with. I want you to be at my side always.” He reached out and cupped his cheek lightly. “Merlin, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband?” 

Merlin shifted into more of a sitting position, looking into Arthur's eyes — studying them for any trace of —  well, he wasn't sure, but he didn't find it. He smiled, squeezing Arthur's hand. His throat felt clogged, and he was dizzy with emotion, but he finally managed a strong “Yes, yes — of course I will, Arthur. Oh my god.” He took his hands out of Arthur's, throwing his arms around the other man's shoulders. “I love you.”

Arthur smiled widely, feeling a pressure lift off of his chest now that it was out. He asked and Merlin said yes. He had thought, for some reason, Merlin wouldn’t want to marry him, that… He couldn’t bear it if their relationship was ruined over him asking for Merlin to marry him too soon, because he couldn’t tell if it was or not. But it wasn’t, it was  _ perfect. _ He had finally done this right, and even though the day didn’t go to plan, he was going to marry his best friend, his Merlin.

“I love you too,” he said softly, pulling away from the hug reluctantly so he could tug the ring out of his pocket and slip it onto Merlin’s finger. He looked up into his eyes and smiled wider than he thought he even could. “I love you so much.” 

Merlin waited patiently for Arthur to slide the ring on the finger he had extended to him. He chewed on his lip for a moment, looking back at the king. “So what does that mean? What about an heir?”

“I have other family members that can produce an heir,” he told him, having thought this through when he first decided that he really was going to propose to Merlin. He brought the hand with a ring on it now up to his lips, kissing it lightly. “Or perhaps I could appoint a knight or a lord’s child as heir if I see them as fit for the throne. There are many options for kings who can’t produce heirs.” 

“But you  _ can  _ produce an heir — just not with me,” Merlin said, a frown beginning to tug at his lips. “Don't you want children of your own, Arthur?”

“I want to be with you,” Arthur said, taking both of his hands again. He didn’t want to see that frown on his face, didn’t want to see him so sad and upset. “I don’t care if that means I can’t have children of my own. I’ve never been a big children person anyway. But I’m definitely a Merlin person.” He smiled and leaned forward, kissing him briefly. 

Merlin leaned into the kiss, threading his hands in Arthur's blond, messy hair when the other man tried to pull away. He scooted closer, deepening the kiss, and holding onto Arthur. His king. His boyfriend—his fiancé. 

When they returned to Camelot, they would need to announce their engagement. Merlin would try to win over the people, and the castle would need to go through yet another adjustment period. Eventually, Arthur and Merlin would marry, and they would spend  _ forever  _ together, exactly how it should be. But that was the future, and right now, it was just the two of them, kissing in the woods.

After a moment, he leaned over Arthur, and he found his hand sliding up his shirt. He moved his lips to the king’s neck, sucking light marks into the skin. Arthur’s hands were suddenly strong, firmly holding Merlin’s hips, and though Merlin felt vulnerable, he trusted Arthur, and he wouldn't have it any other way.


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the final chapter, basically an epilogue! We hope you've enjoyed our sarcastic little shitness through this journey

_ One year later _

 

With magic legal, Camelot had become one of the strongest of the five kingdoms. Arthur was an amazing king. He really cared for his people, which counted for a lot. Beyond that, Arthur was brave, and mindful, and intelligent. The knights all went through thorough training, and their knightship was granted based on loyalty and skill, not on blood. 

It had been almost a year since Merlin’s coronation as king consort, but he was a great help in building the kingdom. Few enemies dared to challenge him, but when they did, they were either killed, or sent running for their lives. Merlin was here to protect Arthur's people.  _ Their  _ people. There was now peace in Camelot. They had not been attacked or threatened in ages, and even the castle drama seemed to be dying down. Everything was finally perfect, at least for now.

Merlin was sitting on the floor, cross legged, by the fireplace in his and Arthur’s shared chambers. The fire was hot against his face, illuminating his features as his eyes glowed a similar color as the flames. Creatures danced in the fireplace—a dragon and a lion—moving gracefully through the fire. He heard Arthur step up behind him, and he smiled contently. 

“What have you been up to,  _ sire _ ?” Merlin asked, turning his head to look fondly at his husband.

Arthur rolled his eyes at him, coming to sit down next to him. He nudged Merlin with his shoulder. “Just my duties,  _ Your Highness _ ,” he replied with a wide smile. “What have you been doing?” 

Council had become a lot easier to manage when he was able to have Merlin at his side throughout the whole thing, and so had court. Even the pettiest of issues among the people of the lower town were manageable when his husband was sitting on the throne next to him. 

Merlin gestured towards the fire, sheepishly. The animals were still dancing, but slower now, fading. He scooted over a bit, allowing room for Arthur to sit next to him. 

Arthur sat down next to him and stared into the fire as he threw an arm around his consort’s shoulders. He didn’t know how he ever thought magic wasn’t beautiful, not when Merlin used it for such innocent and pretty things like this. Merlin’s magic made it seem like there could never be something that was evil about it, like there could never be a person who used something so gentle and calm for ill purposes. Merlin’s magic made Arthur’s heart sing, made it swell with love and happiness. He turned to press a kiss to the sorcerer’s cheek. 

“It’s beautiful,” he said quietly, unsure what else to say, although those two words didn’t properly encompass how truly amazing it was. 

Merlin leaned into Arthur's arm, closing his eyes. “How did we get this far?” he whispered. “Only a few years ago, we kept secrets from each other, and you threw a shoe at my head almost every morning before sending me off to do chores. So much has changed.” Merlin smirked, turning his head to look up at Arthur. 

“I still throw things at you when you deserve it,” Arthur pointed out, squeezing his shoulder. “But I try to make sure they’re soft things, like pillows.” 

“How generous of you,” Merlin joked.

The king chuckled, rolling his eyes at him. “Would you prefer I went back to throwing shoes? Because sometimes I think you  _ try  _ to irritate me,” he said softly, pulling Merlin closer so they were cuddled together in front of the fire. It was entirely too cheesy for any one man to be able to handle at any point in time, but Arthur was pretty sure he was immune to things that were extremely sweet. If he hadn’t desensitized himself to Merlin’s adorable nose-scrunching every morning when he first woke up, he was pretty sure he would die from how goddamn cute it was. “You’re rather good at it, you know.” 

“ _ Someone _ needs to keep you in line,” Merlin replied. Before Arthur had a chance to argue, Merlin gently kissed him. It only lasted a second before Merlin pulled away, standing up. “Come on, Arthur. Let's get some sleep.” Tomorrow was Arthur and Merlin's first wedding anniversary, and there was a huge celebration planned for the occasion. Sadly, they were unable to hold a tournament in such cold weather, but there would of course still be plenty of entertainment. Still, Merlin didn't want the day to be spoiled because of sleep deprivation. Arthur did have a tendency to be  _ a total ass  _ when he was tired. Merlin extended his hand for his husband to take.

Arthur nodded, taking his hand and reluctantly heading toward the closet to get some clothes out. He never sent for his new servant, George, this late at night since he preferred Merlin to help him with dressing rather than the stranger who spent far too much time joking about copper. He brought their nightclothes over to Merlin. 

Merlin carefully helped Arthur out of his clothes, handing him the pants that he usually slept in. Arthur still usually slept without a shirt, but not Merlin. Merlin liked the welcoming softness of the fabric when he was lying down. Even when he was surrounded by the soft pillows and blankets of his and Arthur’s bed. 

Once Arthur was in his night clothes, Merlin wiggled into his, folding his used clothes and setting them in the chair for the laundry maids to later retrieve. He made his way over to the bed, slipping under the covers on his side before closing his eyes. “Come to bed, Arthur,” Merlin whispered from beneath the heavy blankets. “I'm cold.”

Arthur smiled over at him, getting in and slipping underneath the blankets. He wrapped his arms around Merlin, holding him close. He was cold as well, and nothing was better than being buried underneath the royal blankets with the royal consort in his arms to warm him up. He kissed the top of Merlin’s head contentedly. “Goodnight, my king,” he whispered. 

…

“Rise and shine,” Merlin said, pulling the blankets off of Arthur. He knew that it was tremendously cold, and that was likely an unfair thing to do, but at least it would get them up. He would have to ask George to relight the fireplace. And heat up… everything. “It's our anniversary,  _ hunny, _ ” Merlin said, playfulness in his tone. 

Arthur glared up at him like he was ready to run him through. He slowly sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. If he wasn’t so damned tired and Merlin didn’t look so cute, his bedhead hair a mess and his clothes all wrinkled from sleep, Arthur was pretty sure he would chase after him and— well, probably shove him against the wall and kiss him, honestly. And make sure his hair got even messier before they actually started to get ready for the ceremony. 

“It’s not going to be for much longer if you do another thing like tear that blanket off of me,” he said, though his voice held no actual anger.

Merlin mock-pouted, folding his arms. “I just wanted to get to spend as  _ much time as possible  _ with you today,  _ sire. _ ” He pulled Arthur up into his arms, pulling him into a good morning kiss. “Better?” he asked after he pulled away.

Arthur tried to hold  his exasperated frown for as long as possible before he finally gave in with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, all right, I suppose I feel a little better,” he said, wrapping his arms around his waist and tugging him close for another kiss. “I don’t think I could ever stay angry with you if your lips are on mine.” 

“Good to know,” Merlin said, kissing him back before stepping away, ignoring Arthur's protests. “Come on, George will be up here soon. Do you really want him to walk in with us like this?” He gave Arthur a small, teasing smile before turning towards the closet.

Arthur wrinkled up his nose, flopping back down on the bed while Merlin got clothes out for them to wear. He watched his husband for a moment, and despite the fact that he was sleepy and cold and would rather sleep in for five more minutes than start the celebrations so early, he couldn’t help but feel lucky for everything he’d found in Merlin. Had he not fallen for him, he would have been stuck in an unhappy marriage to a stranger of a princess from another kingdom. Even though their relationship was untraditional and frowned upon by some, he would take it over any alternative. He loved Merlin with all his heart, and waking up next to the idiot every morning, even when he was being an insufferable ass, made him feel light enough to fly. 

“Hurry up,” he whined, because teasing was their go-to way of saying “I love you” when the moment wasn’t tender enough for the actual words. “You’re the slowest person I’ve ever known.  _ This _ is why I fired you from being my servant.”

“You  _ fired me _ so that you could make me a noble, and then  _ marry me _ ,” Merlin replied, rolling his eyes in a joking manner, even though he wasn't facing Arthur. He pulled the clothing selection from the closet, tossing Arthur his clothes. “I trust you can dress yourself, then? Since you fired me?” Merlin smiled at him, tugging off his own shirt to change.

Arthur glared at Merlin with no actual heat in the gaze. “You’re a very rude person, you know,” he said, standing up and going over to him. He took his hand to prevent him from doing anything more. “Until you stop being so rude and dress me I may have to continue to kiss you.” 

Merlin turned his head away, chuckling. “No. I'm not your servant.  _ Remember _ ?” he pulled his knew shirt over his head just as there was a knock on the door, followed by George entering the room. 

“My lords,” he said, elegantly, setting two plates of breakfast onto the table. He crossed the room to throw open the drapes before turning to them. “The celebrations start in an hour. They will be taking place within the castle, but it is still winter time so I recommend dressing warm.” He paused. “Will there be anything else?”

Arthur looked over at him and nodded gratefully. “Thank you, George,” he said. “Actually, could you come help me dress? Because my husband here is being ridiculous.” He sent a smile over at Merlin, though. 

Merlin shook his head, giving in. “That will be all George. I can take care of  _ His Majesty. _ Thank you.” Merlin nodded towards the door, holding back a laugh. George obliged, taking his leave. 

Arthur went over to Merlin again once the servant left the room, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s waist and tugging him close. “Let’s get dressed after breakfast,” he said, kissing him. He held the kiss for a moment before pulling him by the hand toward the table and sitting down in front of one of the trays full of their breakfast. 

Despite what Arthur had said, Merlin changed his trousers before he sat down at the table. On his plate was a selection of cheeses, bread, and berries, along with a few sausages. Looking at it, he found that he wasn't very hungry. He snacked on a few berries before he pushed his plate away.

Arthur ate his breakfast hungrily, however, and nudged Merlin when he moved his plate away from him. “Are you determined to stay the skinniest noble in Camelot?” he said, smiling at him a little bit. “You should eat. We’re going to have a long day of celebration.” Arthur wouldn’t have anything less for their very first anniversary. 

Merlin smiled at Arthur. “I'm sure there will be  _ plenty _ to eat during the celebrations. You knights never seem to stop eating.” Merlin moved to stand, grabbing the abandoned clothes of Arthur and setting them over the back of the chair. “Finish up and get dressed. I'll go check on everything.” Merlin leaned around Arthur to place a kiss on his nose before straightening himself up and making for the door.

“Are you not going to help me dress?” Arthur asked, standing and stepping toward the door as well. He reached out and grabbed his husband’s hand, trying to tug him over with an inviting smile. He had been an arse that morning, but he was always an arse in the mornings when they didn’t get to sleep in together. “You already told George he could leave before he could help.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Can you not do it yourself?” he asked, though he took Arthur's hand anyway and moved back towards the clothes. “Let's not be late.” Merlin reached to help Arthur remove his shirt.

Arthur smiled at him and lifted his arms so he could take the shirt off of him. “Thank you,” he said, having gotten in the habit of saying it more often now that they were married—though by no means did he say it every time Merlin did something for him. But he’d been a prat all morning, so he felt that Merlin deserved the thanks. “Even though you’re being extremely difficult.” 

Merlin scrunched his nose adorably as he finished straightening Arthur's shirt. “You're the difficult one. Can't even dress yourself.” He smiled at Arthur, moving to untie his trousers, careful to brush Arthur with his fingers  _ just the way he liked _ , teasing him. 

Arthur let out a breath as he felt his dick respond to Merlin’s attention to it. “You utter  _ prat _ ,” he said without anger as he leaned into the touch a little bit. It was just like Merlin to start something they wouldn’t have time to finish before they had to leave. Now he was going to get a boner and have to avoid thinking about Merlin and his—literally—magical hands, the way his hip bones looked when there weren’t any clothes there to cover them up. His pale thighs, exposed for Arthur to torturously trail his hands up, to pepper with kisses on the way to his dick… 

“Look at what you’ve done,” Arthur said, his voice a little broken at the thought of what he was going to do to his husband that night after their anniversary celebrations were over. He felt his blood wanting to rush down there, wanting him to fulfill the need that Merlin had created. Hell, the second they got ten minutes of free time, he was going to drag Merlin into the nearest empty chambers and—

He needed to stop thinking of that before this got ridiculous. 

Merlin simply smiled innocently at him as he slowly lowered Arthur's trousers. He brought his lips to Arthur's hip bone, leaving a trail of soft kisses downward, pulling away just before he reached Arthur's cock. 

Merlin enjoyed teasing Arthur. He liked to see the pouty look on his face when he didn’t even try to finish what he started, when he just left Arthur there all hard and excited. It was adorable, and usually made for a much more enjoyable night when Merlin actually  _ did  _ let it go somewhere. 

He lowered Arthur's pants the rest of the way for him to step out of them, before standing up and retrieving the new, clean pair from the back of the chair. 

Arthur stepped out of his pants and watched Merlin poutily as he got the pants off. He definitely didn’t want any trousers on now, not when his dick was slowly rising from Merlin’s teasing stimulation. “You’re an arse,” he said as he pulled the pants up for himself, waiting for Merlin to tie the laces for him. “A complete arse. I’m not even sure why I married you.” 

“Because you love me?” Merlin offered. He pressed his hand harder against Arthur's dick as he tied the laces. “Because I'm irresistible?” He pulled the strings tightly, tying them into a secure knot. 

Arthur couldn’t help but let out a low moan as he felt Merlin’s hand up against his dick, and he leaned his head back for a moment. “You  _ are _ , you idiot,” he said, having to pull together every ounce of self-restraint he had to stop himself from ripping off Merlin’s clothes right then and there. “How am I supposed to focus on anything but your arse at the celebration now?” He went over to where they kept their crowns, putting his own on his head and walking over with Merlin’s. He placed it on his husband’s head before taking a step back to admire his incredibly adorable, incredibly  _ sexy _ lover. “Ready to go now that you’ve gone and worked me up?” 

Merlin smiled back at him, taking his hand. “I am,” he said, proudly. He loved to know that he could cause Arthur to have that reaction. He  _ loved _ to see Arthur need him. 

Just as the two began to walk towards the door, there was an unnatural sound at the window, causing Merlin to turn his head. A crow was perched just outside, staring at him intently. Merlin released Arthur's hand, cautious but curious, as he walked towards the window and opened it. There was a small scroll tied to the bird's leg. “Arthur, come here.” Merlin beckoned his husband over.

Arthur came over, more than a little irritated that a bird at their window was allowed to make them late but sex wasn’t a good enough excuse. He huffed as he looked at the bird and message attached to it. “Isn’t that how sorcerers send letters?” he asked, since he didn’t know any non-sorcerer who could look at a crow, tell it to send a letter to someone, and actually have it work out for them. “What does it say?” 

Merlin shrugged, detaching the letter from the bird's leg. He opened it, scanning it with his eyes, before chuckling and handing it to Arthur. 

_ Arthur, I plan to attack you sometime in the near future. I’m coming from the southeast from Essetir. Please don’t be prepared. I probably won’t come for a while since I’ve sent you this letter. ~Morgana.  _

Arthur read through it a couple times in disbelief, before looking up at Merlin again. “The spell must have affected her more than it did us,” he said, shaking his head as he shut their window and walked back toward the door. “Though I suppose she does have a lot to hide.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're also thinking of doing a sequel. Let us know in the comments if you would want us to! (and also let us know what you thought of the story in general) Keep an eye out for the sequel on our pages if you do want us to write one!


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